V<\t; / 










PLANTATION^AYS 



m 



OTHER POEMS^ 



BELTON O'NEALL TOWNSEND, A. B., and 



Attorney at Law. 



33 



" Mr. Bret Harte is credited with the statement that the South offers special 
advantages to the novelist. He might truly have added, to the poet also. ' 

Atlantic Monthlv 




COLUMHIA, S. C 
Charles A. Calvo, Jk., Pkintek. 

1884. 



T3 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1884, 

By Belton O'Neall Townsend, 
In the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 



NOTICE. 

Copies hereof sent by mail postpaid, on receipt of I1.25 each, (usual discount to 
booksellers,) by the author, at Florence, S. C. 



DEDICATION 



Mr. W. D. Howells: 

Not only am I indebted to you more than to any other literary 
friend for assistance, kindness and attention, but also for frequent 
encouraging and flattering expressions such as these: "I have no 
doubt that your destiny is literature. -^ * * You have already 
made an impression which few men of your age have done, and you 
have but to go on in the course you have taken. ^ * * Do you 
know that they [my prose productions, anonymous or under notns de 
plume'] have been made the subject of wide editorial comment in the 
North?" 

As some token of gratitude, I beg to inscriiie to you these few 
poems — the rather limited crop (though secretly the real life-work) 
of twenty-nine ambitious years; and all the more is it appropriate in 
that the longest of them, " Wild Wiih All Regret," was originally 
instigated (along with much not in verse) by another sentence of yours 
in a letter to me : " Why not try something in the way of a very 
realistic stoiy of South Carolinian life? I am sure that you have the 
materials for it." In confirmation of which inference of yours, by the 
way, Longfellow (to whom was sent the MS. of about one-third of 
these verses before his death) also wrote me : " One thing strikes me 
very favorably in reference to your poems : I see that you have chosen 
subjects of local interest and written about things that lie close around 
you. That is a great secret and promise of success. We write best 
of things into which we can put our hearts. But pray don't speak 
of the 'despised South' — [I had in my letter referred to its position 



in literature.] Call it the beautiful South and write of its beauties. 
That will interest us all." Most sincerely do I hope his assertion will 
be vindicated by the reception of this volume, where I have attempted 
to write of the beauties of the South, and that I may succeed in " inter- 
esting you all" at the North, as well as those of whom I crave a nearer 
audience. Though, as you are aware, and as I hope the public can 
discern from the face of my verses, I am fond enough to aim far higher 
than at being the poet of a section, a faction or a subject. Yet in 
regard to my acquaintance with Southern life, I will say, that in the 
main poem here printed I have endeavored to give, as it chances, a 
true picture of the excesses during Reconstruction of the blacks. If its 
reception convinces me that you and the public still think me possessed 
of materials and capacity for writing stories of South Carolinian life, 
I may publish others, mainly pi-ose, and will always endeavor, as here, 
to fearlessly set forth the doings, the faults and the good traits of both 
races, from the cold, impartial standpoint of the student, the scholar 
and (I hope) the cosmopolitan; trying to 

" Nothing extenuate, 
Nor set down aught in malice." 

The Author. 
Florence, S. C, Feb^y 22, 1884. 




CONTENTS. 



PLANTATION LAYS. 

PAGE. 

1. WiM) With Ai.i, Recjhet ; a Tale of Keconstructioii 7 

2. TuE Old Driver's L.vment 55 

8. Poor Boss 5H 

4. The Charleston* Fairy 57 

5. Southern Mi'nicipal Elections. A satire (H 

<■). A Serenade <i5 

'i . Two Fates W 



OTHER POEMS. 

1. A Plea foh Jlm 69 

2. Love and Estran(;ement ; a Meditative Romance 71 

3. Reformation 81 

4. The World's Fair, ls7<) 8H 

5. Sue Never Smiles 87 

f). Enviuonmknt 88 

7. '• First Principles.*' 91 

H. Lack of Stamps 97 

9. An Ins( kiption 98 

10. An Excise 99 

11. .\L\.I<)1< Sl'KEAl) 99 

12. Ode to Narciss.v— Anacreontic 103 

13. A Ne(;ro Valentine 104 

14. A Fi{A(;ment (Juvenile) 105 



3>*iC 



^WILDiWITHlflLLlREGRET;^ 

AtTALEtOFtRECONSTRUCTION. 



I'll not invoke the Muses, 

But with a sheriffs sale, 
A very homely matter, 

You may think, will start my tale. 
Yet there is not a subject 

You can find in all romance 
More tragic than the auction 

Of an old inheritance. 
The Berkeleys were a family 

Whose name from earliest age 
Of Carolina's annals 

Appears on every page. 
Before the war, their bondsmen 

By the hundreds could be told. 
And the land was half a district^ 

Which their head alone controlled. 
At peace his slaves were freedmen. 

His lands were on his hands. 
As the present of an elephant 

In Eastern story stands. 
For them there was no market, 

Yet they were under tax. 



PLANTATION LAYS. 

Which simply confiscated, 

Yet would yearly greater wax. 
Plantation on plantation 

Beneath the hammer fell, 
Till the sheriff advertised at last 

He must the homestead sell. 
''The Oaks" was what they styled it, 

A beautiful estate, 
In all the Southern country 

You would hardly find its mate. 
And it, for generations, 

Had passed from head to son, 
Among the Berkeley people, 

Ere their fortunes were undone. 
They tried to chill the bidding, — 

For land was no demand. 
And only speculators 

Were apt to be on hand : 
A set of sharks who waited. 

On every day of sale. 
During all of Reconstruction, 

Round the court house steps and jail. 
In hopes to catch a bargain, 

And for a farthing buy 
The home of v/idows, orphans, 

And turn them 'neath the sky. 
And though I think it error 

When aught the law o'errules. 
These men were sometimes beaten 

By their persecuted tools; 
Or told (as by these Berkeleys, 

While the advertisement ran,) 
" 'Twas best on this occasion 



PLANTATION LAYS. 

For them to have no plan ; 
'Twas meant to buy the property, 

At lowest price 'twould bring, 
For Berkeley's wife — the owner 

Could thus to homestead cling." 
So off they stood, like vultures 

Which circle round the sky, 
While men stay near to corpses 

That still unburied lie. 
But at the last a rumor 

Began to stir and grow, 
That there would be a bidder. 

Whom Berkeley knew his foe. 
He was the county senator. 

Had Bureau-Agent been, 
And once, in course of duty, 

Knocked the Oaks to enter in. 
They spurned him from the doorway, 

When they heard his hated name, 
And told him the dogs should tear him, 

If ever again he came. 
He was termed a carpet-bagger, 

For he came within the State 
With one valise's contents, 

But intent t' accumulate. 
And fortune in battalions. 

Not singly, sent her gifts, 
As she's wont to do with blessings, 

Or ills, as humor shifts. 
For Whitmire soon held office, 

Which once the Berkeleys filled. 
While horses, rooms and equipage 

In thrift proclaimed him skilled. 



10 PLANTATION LAYS. 



First Monday dawned ; to traffic 

Crowds ever come that day, ^* 
On foot, or horse, in buggy, — 

Drink sometimes makes affray. 
The Berkelej^s' friends and kindred. 

Well mounted men and brave, 
Came early to the Court House, 

With talk and aspect grave; 
With Whitmire came a rabble 

Of black militia there. 
To which the band of Falstaff 

Would very well compare. 
A fife and drum made discord. 

No step was ever kept. 
At moves and rifle handling 

An Upton would have wept. 
These soldiers would, in conflict. 

Have scattered quick and blind. 
But the Cavaliers were conscious 

Of the mighty North behind. 
The auction was exciting. 

The Berkeley party bid 
Their utmost means, but Whitmire 

Their very best outdid. 
To raise a dollar strained them 

Than fifty once far worse. 
And very low he gained it, 

'Mid many a muttered curse. 
Then his troops, with mighty cheering, 

Paraded up and down, 
A dozen times each highway 

And the public square in town. 
Each sullen white was hooted, 



PLANTATION LAYS. 

And while they marched in rank, 
Large colored crowds beside them 

Ran on, with curious prank. 
With apish tricks, preceded 

A clown, upon an ox. 
While women halloaed "Glory!" 

And, dancing, flapped their frocks. 
Each white aside stood darkly. 

And scarcely yielded way. 
If on him in their marching 

The column chanced to stray. 
Till sunset lingered Berkeley, 

With others used to rule. 
And checked a dozen riots. 

And kept the young men cool. 
He rode away at twilight, 

When half the crowd was gone. 
And found the highways streaming 

As he to th' Oaks went on. 

His wife and daughter waited, 

At their old residence. 
All day to hear the tidings. 

In weeping and suspense. 
They ate but little dinner; 

The dreary afternoon 
Passed on the broad verandah 

Until uprose the moon. 
Their supper was dispensed with 

Till Berkeley should arrive, 
And finally to the gateway 

They went adown the drive. 
Old Chloe followed with them, 



13 PLANTATION LAYS. 



She had been the younger's nurse, 
And had waited on the mother 

With a love unbought of purse. 
They reached the gate, with pillars 

Surmounted high with balls, 
And listened. Soon upon their ears 

A distant murmur falls. 
It came from towards the Court House, 

And as it nearer drew, 
They made it out militia, 

Dispersing — drunken, too; 
For they were yelling, hooting, 

And talking most obscene, 
And firing, now a rifle, 

Then a pistol shot between. 
The females closed the portal. 

Inside withdrew a space. 
In hopes the rabble would pass on 

And not molest the place. 
But they stopped afront the entrance, 

And loud, derisive talked 
Of how their hero, Whitmire, 

Had Berkeley's bidding balked.- 
From this the trembling women 

Their adverse fortune learned; 
But rising grief by terror 

Was quickly overturned. 
On serenading Berkeley 

(Whose absence seemed unknown) 
The crowd resolved, and entered 

The gateway, open thrown. 
Of old who dared to visit 

Without a pass was scourged, 



PLANTATION LAYS. 13 



Hut now, ere flecl the women, 

The mob around them surg 

It halted at their screamin 



'&' 



But quickly ribaldry, 
And shouting and derision, 

Showed its hostility. 
But suddenly a gallop 

Was heard ad own the road, 
And Berkeley burst upon them, — 

His face with anger glowed. 
But if his rage was kindling, 

At their trespass, thus begun, 
What felt he on discovering 

His dear ones near o'errun ! 
Forthwith there flashed his pistol. 

And cries of fear arose. 
As with a random volley. 

Scattered his ebon foes. 
Oblivious of their firing. 

He sprang from off his steed, 
And to the cowering females 

Rushed headlong in his speed. 
They saw his sudden entrance. 

His perilous attack 
Upon a brutish multitude, 

Who did not weapons lack. 
A gun ball struck the mother. 

She sank in Chloe's arms, 
And with one moan her soul hath flown 

Far from this earth's alarms. 
Her daughter rushed to aid her. 

Saw the blood, and wildly fell 
In fits of screaming, fainting, 

Wliich weeks could hardly quell. 



14 PLANTATION LAYS. 



The Oaks was splendid property, 

But ample for a duke, 
So Whitmire seized occasion 

Th' old system to rebuke. 
No land was owned by negroes. 

As yet, though eager sought, 
Then whites to sell them thought it 

A shame, whate'er it brought. 
(We learned full many a lesson, 

In Reconstruction days, 
And now sell white or negro. 

Who can the money raise.) 
So he cut half the property 

Into a hundred farms; 
To purchase them the freed men 

Came flocking up in swarms. 
He sold them all they wanted, 

For credit or for cash, — 
(Though those who took on credit 

Discovered they were rash. 
He did not give them titles, 

But simply a receipt, 
And promised them the papers 

When payments were complete. 
Each moved upon his purchase. 

Paid more, improved it years. 
But found when Whitmire sold the Oaks, 

As afterwards appears, — 
The gentleman who bought it 

Owned each undeeded home, 
And, but for generosity. 



PLANTATION LAYS. 15 

They must pay o'er or roam.) 
These newly fledged freeholders, 

To build upon their land, 
Buy all their former cabins. 

That in the cpiarters stand. 
These quickly down are taken, 

And carted piecemeal on 
Each buyer's farm though distant, 

And erected o'er anon. 
Of quarters there were several ; 

The largest one was seen 
Some furlongs from the mansion. 

That crowned the whole demesne. 
This quarter first was sold from ; 

And only a single house 
Was left a half year after, 

Your attention to arouse. 
'Twas the overseer's dwelling, 

Around it was a field 
Where in the earlier era 

The cabins were revealed. 
Law gives the bankrupt homestead — 

Of very humble kind. 
Compared to the great mansion 

That Berkeley left behind. 
A thousand dollars only 

The sheriff laid aside, 
From what the Oaks was sold for. 

This refuge to provide. 
The court must make selection. 

And Whitmire interfered. 
To mortify the enemy. 

Who at him once had sneered. 



16 PLANTATION LAYS. 



To place him in the cottage 

Where his overseer had dwelt, 
While Whitmire moved to the mansion. 

Would be triumph keenly felt. 
So this house, with fifty acres, 

As the homestead was approved 
For Berkeley, by a circuit judge 

Whom Whitmire made and moved. 
And vain protested Berkeley 

And counsel that he paid, 
The court was firm, and ordered 

The investment to be made. 
'Twas deep humiliation 

To take for future home 
A place so near the mansion 

That he could see its dome. 
Whither, of old, he'd lofty 

Wave off late traveler 
That lodging asked, if aspect 

Might chance to give demur. 
There were Berkeley, Allie, Chloe, 

(Still faithful) went along, 
He farmed the field allotted. 

And brooded o'er each wrong; 
He could not brook his fortune, 

And tried to drown his woe 
By drinking deep, a remedy 

Oft tried by high and low. 
And all the solemn lectures 

The world will ever hear 
Will hardly make us temperate, 

When fortune serves severe. 



PLANTATION LAYS. 17 

So tlie alien and negro make revel 

In the banqueting halls of the proud, 
While the olden owner is toiling, 

And the mother is wrapped in the shroud. 
And the daughter dreamily looketh, 

With her elbow at rest on the sill, 
And her hand to her cheek, as she sitteth 

Each day at the house on the hill. 
Ah Christ ! when was there such vision? 

That slender, tall, beautiful form. 
The lustrous eye and the wavy hair, 

And the marble-cut, sinuous arm. 
Yes, wavy her hair, for 'tis loose to the air, 

And her dress is all crumpled and wild : 
Ah. shame to the one who this fell work hath done, 

Who hath crazed this magnificent child ! 
Yes, crazed! — for months she lingered 

From the shock of her mother's death, 
Her brain in whirl of fever, 

On fire her panting breath. 
They long scarce hoped to save her, 

Yet at the last she rose, 
But, alas! they found that madness 

Had seized her in its throes. 
They tenderly w^aited on her. 

Her, father, Chloe, too. 
And sometimes one called Willie, 

Who had loved her, ere her rue. 
She sits and mourns, but weeps not, 

Her gaze is forever kept on 
Her olden home in the distance, 

Her thoughts on the days that are gone. 
We think not how grateful is weeping, 



1'^ PLANTATION LAYS. 



The reason may hang on a tear, 
For it giveth a vent to the feelings 

Which, pent, into madness may flare. 
Yet sometimes she'd roam to the churchyard, 

And you'd hear the deep moan and the sigh 
As she gazed on a wooden headmark^ 

Though the tear glistened not in her eye. 
That sculplureless grave contrasted 

With its neighbors, marble crowned; 
For a century here her kindred 

Had made their burying ground; 
But alone the murdered lady 

Of all lay under the soil, 
Without a shaft to tell you 

She rested from her toil. 

One day— a year from the auction — 

Young Allie was thus at the grave, 
And sat till the dews of evening 

Began all things to lave, 
Then, rising, her arms she foldeth. 

And fixedly stares at the Oaks, 
Which looms above the tree-tops, 

Though the dusk her vision chokes. 
At length she wildly starteth, 

And throweth her right hand up. 
And she swears some oath as solemn, 

As if by the Holy Cup. 
Then suddenly ceased her transport, 

She left the graveyard old, 
And rapidly walked and stealthy 

Towards her home which had been sold. 



PLANTATION LAYS. 19 



Between the Oaks and Court House 

That night the meeting's held 
Of the Loyal League, in forest 

And swamp unchiimed of eld. 
A stump sufficed for altar, 

With stars and stripes 't was draped, 
And laden with other emblems, 

In certain order shaped; 
The Bible, Constitution, 

The Declaration, Sword, 
The Ballot-box, and Sickle, 

And Gavel there were stored. 
No Censer with Liberty's Fire 

Shone there, — as the ritual charged; 
But a pine torch. Round this altar 

Their circle was formed, and enlarged 
By numerous truants, who entered 

Past the sentinels posted around. 
While the distant passer noticed 

A wild and wailing sound — 
Peculiar to negro singing 

(Of which they justly brag,) 
As they chanted "John Brown's Body," 

Or '' We'll Rally Round the Flag." 
But each prayer and exhortation, 

Each oath and deep response, 
Their gliding forms and shadows, — 

All these the woods ensconce. 
They take in several members, 

With full and mystic rite, 
Who are sworn to join the party 

Which burst their bonds in might. 
Savage and weird the picture, — 



20 PLANTATION LAYS. 



Salvator Rosa's brush 
Had placed it on the canvas 

Such way your breath to hush. 
There first was trained the freed man 

In politics, debate; 
And taught to love '' the Party," 

And his former masters hate. 
There was instilled the lesson 

That it was right in turn 
To steal from white oppressor, 

His residence to burn. 
So nightly rose a flaming 

Far o'er the land to warn 
That negro torch had kindled 

Some dwelling, gin or barn. 
And with gun and baying watch-dog, 

You lightly slept of night, 
And dreamed of fire and burglar, 

And wakened in affright. 

But to-night their chairman's absent — 

'Twas Whitmire held the place — 
They missed his thorough knowledge. 

And long familiar face. 
They late dispersed. One cluster 

To approach the Oaks began. 
All black, except a couple 

Of the carpet-bagging clan : 
Some of the brood of vultures 

Who, when the battling ceased, 
Thronged to the field and gorged till they reeled 

On their national garbage feast. 
The negroes sang and holloaed, 



PLANTATION LAYS. 21 



Or made peculiar cries 
Which Southrons nightly list to 
As the negro homeward hies. 
As they reached their homes they lingered, 

Till very few were left 
When they passed by Berkeley's cottage, 

Where he dwelt of home bereft. 
But then their uproar doi>bled, 

As they marched along the street, 
They cursed his dogs for barking, 

And on his palings beat. 
"The mad girl's not at her window," 

One of the party said ; 
Another rejoined : "Let's raid them, 

Since for once we have caught her abed. 
So when they had passed a little 

Two of the crowd returned, 
And a chicken and turn offence rails 
They bagged while they sojourned. 
— Such were the persecutions 
Of Reconstruction time — 
No wonder there were Ku Klux, 

No wonder there was crime! 
I don't believe in bondage, 
Though Carolinian true. 
And now regret that on us 

It ever cast its hue. 
I hope in future era 

To see the negro rise 
To worth of mind and character 

Which wins of life the prize. 

But to turn him loose as master — 

A child in freedom's ways — 



22 PLANTATION LAYS. 



And make his owners subjects, 

Was this best way to raise? 
God knows, perhaps 'twas better 

At once to meet the shockj 
Extract the tooth, and bolt the dose, 

Not wear by drops the rock. 
Wherever freedom dwelleth 

A certain course she'll take, 
Be sometimes charming fairy, 

And sometimes groveling snake. '^ 
I'd fain have seen the negro 

Improve his chances great. 
But he was simply human. 

And met the general fate. 
For all the course of history 

Hath tended this to show: 
That sudden revolutions 

Are apt to backward flow. 
It takes well nigh a century. 

As proves each precedent. 
One foot above the ocean 

To raise a continent. 
The dropping of a delta 

Will take ten thousand years. 
And countless ages to change rocks 

To fertile hemispheres. 
So, too, with social order, 

With pleasures of mankind, 
With all the thoughts and habits 

Like ivy round him twined. 
They will not change of sudden. 

However hard you try, 
But only after many 



PLANTATION LAYS. 

Generations onward fly. 
Clothe the mule with skin of lion, 

'Twill quickly come to pass 
His braying will betray him, 
And show him still the ass. 
The cat may change to lady, 
But when she sees a mouse. 
She'll straightway leap upon him, 
And not scream o'er the house. 
You may shave and paint the leopard, 

Whiten skin of Ethiop men, 
But the spots and ebon color 
Will soon push out again. 
The sow will to her wallow, 

To his vomit turn the dog ; 
And the devil's cloven foot appears, 

Howe'er he tries to clog. 
And men may raze a Bastile, 

And use the guillotine 
On many a proud aristocrat, 

And on the king and queen, 
But empire quickly follows; 

Napoleon's worse than king; 
And finally time's whirligig 

The Bourbons back will bring. 
The early Christians gloried 

When their faith was made the state's; 
But ([uickly found that baptism 

Changed no man's likes or hates. 
The awful Roman city 
■ Named the universal church; 
Of pagan rites and practices 
The converts went in search. 



PLANTATION LAYS. 

They were told to break their idols 

And bow to ideal God, 
But 'tis ever human failing 

At abstract things to nod. 
So very soon the images 

Of Virgin, Christ and saint 
AVere crowding Christian churches. 

Bowed to without restraint.'^ 
And it proved artificial, 

Unnatural and wrong, 
That blacks should rule the Saxon, 

Through Northern aid too long, — 
Like angry ape, or Titmouse, 

With his thousands ten a year, 
While the law of mighty England 

Sustained him in his sphere. 
The same blood welled in Southrons 

As those Bostonians had 
Who threw the tea in ocean, 

With Indian guises clad; 
And left alone, like spring bent. 

They rose with mighty power, 
And the negro ceased fantastic tricks. 

And helpless 'gan to cower. 

Well, our crowd went on commenting 

Where Whitmire was to-night, 
''He promised to come, at tea-time," 

Said one whose face was white ; 
'' His family's in New England, 

We others, with one design, 
Left his house to-night for the meeting, 

While he lingered to write a line." 



PLANTATION LAYS. 



Through fields of corn and cotton, 

And — such the times — broomsedge, 
The thoroughfare ran ere touching 

The lawn's extended edge. 
Then half a mile, the portal 

At last before them stood 
Where the mob on Berkeley's lady 

Had wrought their work so good. 
— I feel some disi)osition 

Just here to paint the place, 
For it was truly lovely, 

And well deserves the space. 
The people from a distance 

Who travel in the South, 
When we boast of former splendor. 

Think we merely wish to mouth. 
Our old ancestral homesteads 

Are ne'er from railway seen. 
But only swamps and pinelands. 

Poor fields and buildings mean. 
The old-time planters, fearing 

Near growth of noisy town, 
And owning horse and equipage 

To ride to depots down. 
Objected to surveyors 

Running upon them close. 
So that a line of railroad 

E'er'd the poorest land engross. 
But in each rural District 

Some two or three estates 
Were ever found, whose splendor 

No pen e.xaggerates. 
The balance of the County 



23 PLANTATION LAYS. 



Might stunted be and poor, 
And unto every gentleman 

Full many a slave and boor, 
But that is simply stating 

We did the North precede : 
Our planters to your Vanderbilts 

Had seemed in direst need ! 
I've strolled along Fifth Avenue, 

Where fifty millionaires dwell. 
Whose wealth the other million 

New Yorkers' will excel. 
And so with every country 

That lies in human ken, 
In England half the realty 

Belongs to a hundred men. 
A very few are happy, 

A very few are rich ; 
But most of poor humanity 

Is slaving in the ditch. 
The strongest force in physics 

Is found to be evolved 
When the greatest heap of matter 

Is consumed, and thus resolved. 
So perhaps in mortal matters, 

The keenest happiness 
Is witnessed where our neighbors 

Are put to most distress. 
Oh ! I have read and pondered 

On each book that Darwin wrote. 
And over Herbert Spencer 

I once would fairly gloat. 
And when on Nature gazing 

I own they speak the truth. 



PLANTATION LAYS. 

That the strongest are the fittest, 

And give the weakest ruth. 
That through the boundless universe 

All beings have one aim — 
Men, insects, beasts and flowers — 

To make each other game. 
But though their observations 

Have made the churchmen quake. 
And the orthodox conclusions 

As to Bible-science shake, 
Though they've shown that nature's battling 

As we all admit who view, 
Yet is this struggling moral? 

Does only good accrue? 
I know that beast and savage 

Will extirpate the weak. 
But is nature's state the model 

For civilized men to seek? 
If so, then Herbert Spencer 

Should have been impaled at once, 
He was puny, and most people 

Believed him impious dunce. 
Closed up should be each hospital. 

Each orphan house, free school, 
Each means for dealing charity. 

Each move against misrule. 
Yes, leave mankind to nature, 

Then Might alone is Right, 
And those will take who have the power. 

Those keep who've strength to fight.' 
P)Ut all of human history 

Has been a contest hard, 
Of Right with Might, and Progress 

Trying Nature to discard. 



28 PLANTATION LAYS. 



And the foremost men and nations 

Have most of charity, 
And, unlike the natural savage. 

Guard e'en beasts from tyranny. 
And whether God or human, 

I know that Jesus Christ 
Touched civilization's keynote, 

In language apt and spiced, 
When he said "Do unto others 

As you'd have them do to you," 
And praised the good Samaritan 

Who saved the wounded Jew. 
Let Spencer reason, using 

Every favorite thundering word, 
(Which he's coining e'er, while censuring 

The classics as absurd,) 
But the pupil of his Ethics 

May lay the book aside, 
And kill or steal with conscience, 

If his crime he can but hide, 
Like the people of old Sparta 

Who did not deem it aught 
Of wrong to go a thieving, 

Unless the thief was caught. 
Like Offitt the Bread Winner, 

Who felt a better man 
When he had two men nigh murdered 

In his money getting plan. 

But this makes two digressions, 

A thing I quite abhor; 
Pray spare: — 't is first I've published 

Unpruned by editor; 



PLANTATION LAYS. 29 

I've tried my wings and sported 

Jn most unwonted glee, 
Because 't is strange sensation 

To feel at last I'm free. 
Besides I do but co})y 

The modern novel's style, 
Which stops the tale to moralize 

So oft — 't is sometimes vile. 
Yet of me've said some critics 

(Not knowing e'en my name,) 
*'To the gift of closely following 

His theme he has some claim." 
Thanks; henceforth right I'll prove you, 

Or try; so let's retrace 
Our steps, and join the strollers, 

Who had reached the Berkeley place. 
The stately portal entered, 

They took the avenue, 
Which pierced the lawn of oak trees 

And mat of Kentucky blue. 
This passed, they reached the garden 

Of flowers, 'twixt house and lawn. 
When whom do they meet in its pathways — 

Like a glorious dream of the dawn ? 
They stop, and glances mutual 

Exchange, all know her well ; 
But the maiden onward passes. 

And vanishes like a spell. 
And they suddenly hear a crying, 

As of some one in despair, 
Half smothered, in the mansion, 

Where there shines a brilliant glare ! 



30 PLANTATION LAYS. 



A surmise— all go rushing 

Up steps, 'cross balcony, 
Through hall, and down to cellar, 

Whence comes that awful cry. 
The stair is barricaded, 

With barrels, wood, debris, 
And the heap is freshly fired. 

But does not yet blaze free. 
They do not stop or linger, 

But rush to the attack. 
The flames are soon extinguished. 

But leave their mark of black. 
Then the cellar quick is opened. 

And gasping in his fright 
They find their leader 'prisoned. 

Who had missed the tryst to-night ! 
Ah, he will ne'er forget it ! 

His agony, despair! 
When the maiden burst upon him. 

And signalled to the stair ; 
And followed, — tea just over — 

— Her pistol cocked in hand — 
Till she turned the key upon him, 

No help at his command. 
The cellar in old era 

Had held its store of wine; 
But under its new owner 

Had a very changed design. 
He was militia-Colonel, 

And for their armory 
His cellar had been chosen, 
As if by destiny. 



PLANTATION LAYS. 31 



And in it thcMi was ciuartcred 

A store of uniforms, 
Of rifles, bayonets, powder, 

And cartridges in swarms. 
And if that fire had lasted, 

And burnt the Oaks to ground. 
The explosion, like an earthquake, 

Would have shaken the counties round. 
She ha(i seen by the straggling troopers 

Her mother's life o'erthrown ; 
She knew their evil leader 

Had made tlie Oaks his own. 
She had heard the talk (in silence) 

Of father and his friends. 
When the new possessor altered 

The old wine cellar's ends. 
And she had watched the wagons, 

Wliich, with militia throng, 
And heaped with their equipments. 

Passed to the Oaks along. 
And she pointed to them, saying. 

As she marched him in to-night: 
"Your weapons killed my mother 

But their owner now shall smite 1 " 
She caged him with no exit. 

And built a barricade 
As for funeral pile, he trembled, 

And vainly mercy prayed; 
No word she ever uttered. 

But when her task was done 
She sat outside, in vigil. 

Till half the night was run. 
Then she struck a match, he heard it, 



PLANTATION LAYS. 

He screamed to her, to God, 
Till he lost his breath, and his heart beat 
In his breast like a thrasher's rod. 



Of course there was sensation. 

Both very deep and wide, 
When Allie's act was published, 

As usual magnified. 
The Stalwart press devoted 

Some columns each per day, 
To showing how rebellion 

Again was in array. 
And a motion passed the Senate 

(See the Journal of that date). 
At once t' appoint Committee 

To go, and investigate ; 
With power to send for persons, 

And papers, and to sit 
In any distant city. 

If the Oaks would not permit. 
To the Probate Judge went Whitmire, 

Intent to crush his foe, 
And to the State Asylum 

He swore that she should go. 
The papers de lunatico 

Are very quickly filed ; 
A day's set for the hearing, — 

Her father's grief is wild. 
And wild, too, is her lover. 

Young Willie, who has clung 
Through all to her since childhood; 

And Chloe, too, is stung. 



PLANTATION LAYS. .33 



They importune their foeman, 

He swears to have no check ; 
All the State and Union army 

Are at his call and beck. 
And ere the time appointed 

Full many a sleepless night 
These faithful three pass weeping 

And praying in their plight. 
But every thing was hopeless, 

The prison seemed her lot, 
And there was naught could save her 

From the deep and thickening plot ! 



Your captors e'en now: are assembling. 

To tear thee from all that was thine. 
And I feel that your fingers are trembling, 

As I madly encase them in mine. 
Ah ! this of all yet is the hardest. 

And evils past number have thronged ; 
To part us, to take thee, my darling, 

Indeed, 't is the worst they have wronged. 



You would linger all day by the curtain ; 

To strangers you seldom gave heed ; 
Yet one step to rouse you was certain. 

And you heard it when service e'er freed. 
For you blushed and were silent with worship, 

As I drew up my chair to your side, 
And toyed with your ringlets, caressed you, 

And called you my AUie, my bride. 

But all my fond visions are blighted. 

That reason will never return ; 
They bear you from those who delighted 

To tend you, to those who will spurn. 
Yet nay ! I know well that e'en strangers 

Will start when they gaze on your face, 
And wait on you constant and tender ; 

15ut the home-life they cannot replace. 



34 PLANTATION LAYS. 



And can it be that you will miss me, 

As you pine in your cheerless brick cell ? 
If we e'er meet again will you kiss me, 

And know him who loved you so well ? 
Yes ! absence ne'er conquers true passion ; 

My heart will go with you afar. 
And yours will stay with me, my darling, 

Though they part us by distance and bar. 

And we itjill meet ! ill lasts not forever ! 

A just God's in heaven above ; 
And I feel that He'll suffer it never, 

Such hate e'er to smother His love. 
The spoiler shall yet meet with vengeance. 

The bondsman he chastened for pride ; 
And your reason shall come with the tide-turn. 

And then I shall call you my bride ! 



Ah ! shame to you, shame to you ! 

Who would have believed 
You'd e'er be so cruel 

To those you'd aggrieved ? 
You slaughtered their kinsmen. 

You conquered their band. 
You turned free their bondsmen, 

And stole all their land. 

You drove them from homestead. 

The mother you crushed. 
The daughter you maddened, 

At nothing you blushed. 
And now when the maiden 

Does what she knows not. 
She's dragged from her loved ones 

— The prison her lot. 

Ah, this is not justice ! 

—My brothers just freed. 
Will you back up the alien, 

E'en in his worst deed? 
Oh, no ! as God liveth 

You should not do this ; 
Ah ! have you forgotten 

Your kindly old Miss ? 



•LAXTATIOX LAYS. 



She came to the cabins 

To visit the sick, 
The girls for weddings 

She ever would trick. 
If a slave, in her presence. 

Was doomed to the lash. 
She'd beg for and save him, 

With cheek like the ash. 

But ah ! the good lady. 

Is laid in the grave 1 
The soft heart was broken. 

That pitied the slave ! 
And now her poor daughter. 

Of reason bereft, 
Is all that old Chloe 

Can claim to have lefc. 

For I nursed her dear mother, 

And then I nursed her; 
And I'll cling to the poor child. 

Though all men deter! 
Alas ! she now needs me 

Far more than at first ; 
And if you should part us. 

Your deed is accurst. 



Well, over i.s the trial, 

Where mighty crowd was seen. 
Of course there was no contest, 

No plea to intervene. 
Her friends ask simj)!)' mercy, 

But sternly are refused. 
Though promising her freedom 

Shall be ne'er again abused. 
The mad-house is her sentence, 

The judge adjourns the court, 
A deadly silence follows, — 

Man ask if this be sport? 



36 PLANTATION LAYS. 



Then such a storm arises 

As seldom gathers head, 
For hundreds swore they'd guard her 

Until their blood ran red. 
They snatched her ere the sheriff 

Took charge, and marched away, 
A colored J>c?sse followed 

With very short delay; 
Then the wildest scene of riot 

Was witnessed in the town, 
But when Saxon meets the negro. 

The negro's quickly down. 
In less than thirty minutes. 

No colored man was seen. 
Save two or three who lingered, 

Stretched out upon the green. 
And what became of Whitmire 

No man exactly knew, 
He disappeared like magic, — 

To far off city flew. 

That night a mystic column 

Filed o'er the chiefest road, 
On horses clothed with housings. 

That to their ankles flowed. 
Each rider too was hooded. 

Each wore a gown and mask. 
And each was strapped with weapons. 

Ready for deadly task. 
They steadfast onward traveled. 

The negro quaked and feared, 
Who saw that ghastly cavalcade, 

As from his hut he peered. 



PLANTATION LAYS. 37 

But no one they molested, 

That night ; they traveled on 
Till the first faint streaks of morning 

Showed gloom was nearly gone. 
Then the mystic column faded, 

With night, as sun uprose, 
And the news spread through the county 

They had saved her from her foes. 
To distant State they bore her, 

For years none knew the place, 
Because all through the country 

Dwelt Berkeley's kin and race. 
And she was gently cared for 

Away from olden scenes, 
And Whitmire never found her. 

Though he freely lavished means. 
Her father at his cottage 

Dwelt on in quiet gloom, 
While Chloe went with AUie, 

To share her every doom. 
I don't approve of Ku Klux, 

Nor Nihilistic plan. 
My blood is mainly English, — 

Likes the fairly fighting man. 
But I have seen oppression 

So cruel, absolute, 
I glow to hear of vengeance, 

Though philosophy dispute. 
And x\llie, years thereafter, 

When mind again was clear, 
Would ever detest the cruel, 

And the ones who domineer; 



38 PLANTATION LAYS. 



She was not consistent always, 

— (Perhaps her reason still, 
On the subject of a tyrant 

Will always serve her ill.) 
And though it seems strange fountain 

From which to hear such creed, — 
A Southern planter's daughter, 

Not of the Commune breed, — 
Yet I have heard her urging 

That when oppressors smite. 
It is right to make resistance, 

''E'en," she'll sing, "with dynamite! 

''Oh ! take the awful tyrant 

Whom the Russians call the Czar, 
With his knout, police and army 

And Siberian mines afar; 
And take the wailing people, 

Ever cowering in affright, — 
And can you blame them turning 

In despair to dynamite? 

"Ah ! all the world was startled, 

When it heard his father's fate; 
But a Avife he had discarded. 

For a mistress kept in state ; 
And to squander on her millions 

Taxed a thousand homes to blight — 
Oh think of this, and wonder 

Why they threw the dynamite ! 



TLA STATION' LAVS. 39 

"What does the Czar with jewels, 

When myriads are in need? 
Why rules be sixty million 

Purer men, of kindred breed? 
Will he let them meet and organize 

To give him equal fight? 
— Oh, no ! he strikes unfairly, 

So they take to dynamite. 

"Think on the Irish landlord — 

Whose fathers robbed the land 
From the father of his tenants, 

Whose rights on bayonets stand. 
A thousand squalid renters 

Their little means unite 
To buy him London's fatness, — 

Till they rush to dynamite. 

•'O despots, tremble everywhere. 

Your doom is knelling now ! 
For men have cool and stern resolved 

No more to you to bow. 
We will obey no ruler, 

Save to choose we have the right; 
And if he tries the hand of mail. 

We'll fight with dynamite! 

"We hail the name of Brutus! 

We hail the name of Tell ! 
And own with bow and dagger 

They served their tyrants well; 
lUit a Gessler now, or Caisar, 

Will feel redoubled fright. 
For the future Tell and Brutus 

Will be armed with dynamite! 



40 PLANTATION LAYS. 



''In many a million hovel, 

Or ghastly tenement, 
Are a billion creatures starving, — 

Though their lives are slaving spent. 
Yet a Gould to cut their wages 

E'er is watching like a kite, 
And the public's damned by Vanderbilt, 

— Despite their dynamite. 

''Oh ! Jesus tells the story 

Of the good Samaritan, 
Who, while the others passed aside. 

Gave help to dying man. 
So while around our firesides, 

Where wealth and cheer delight. 
Let's spare for human suffering, 

— It may banish dynamite." 



Our story takes a recess 

Of six or seven years, 
Ere Allie on the stage again 

And at the Oaks appears. 
To Whitmire come promotions 

So great, that rural scenes 
He quits, and seeks Columbia, 

Where harvests- fat he gleans. 
A mansard roof receives him, 

A fountain plays in front. 
To sport with steed and landaulet 

Is constantly his wont. 
He sold the Oaks on moving, 

And Willie's father bought, 



PLANTATION LAYS. 41 



The acres half were lessened, 
• But the house unchanged in aught. 
'Twas opened warm to Berkeley, 

Who both was far too proud 
To take of alms, and t' enter 

The Oaks no more had vowed. 
Will's f^uher had been lucky, 

Some fortune he had saved, 
And son, and father also. 

Had well their troubles braved. 
They went to work right nobly 

Like many Southrons, then. 
And proved not mere patricians. 

But self supporting men. 
(Oh, Northern people, watch it! 

The coming Southern race, 
In arts and money-making, 

Are going to give you chase ! 
'Twas sternest of necessity 

That forced them to the plow, 
But of himself each Southerner 

Can take the best care now. 
Some of the olden manners 

Could not sustain the fight. 
And, moping, brooding, drinking. 

Soon sank from public sight. 
But now no work's degrading, — 

Too many of the ton 
Are plowing, clerking, teaching, — 

All sneer at idle Don. 
I now think slavery error; 

AUhou'di tlie North must own 



42 PLANTATION LAYS. 



'Tis hardly found entitled 

First at us to've thrown the stone. 
You, too, had slaves once; tenements 

Our negro quarters beat, 
The master kept the aged — 

Where's your laborer's retreat? 
And, as usual with an evil. 

It had its side of good, — 
Half civilized the Afric 

Brought to our neighborhood. 
But the old Plantation era 

Is passed fore'er away, 
And I rejoice that slavery 

Has seen its final day. 
I see the State improving 

In numbers now and wealth. 
So wondrously, I own it: 

"Our old life was not health!" 
Our land is filled with engines, 

With factories and mines; 
And Progress, the iconoclast. 

Is breaking olden slirines. 
There's no one now can tarry. 

No time is there for play. 
For Satan takes the hindmost. 

And the smartest wins the day.) 

'Twas — 76, and Hampton 

His famous circuit rode. 
And all the State with tumult 

From hills to sea o'erflowed. 
And when the hot election 

Results in contest, doubt. 



PLANTATION LAYS. ^55 

And Union bayonets grimly 

Keei) Hami)ton's party out; 
But all the signs are pointing 

To his success at last, — 
Then Berkeley brings back AUie, 

Regardless of the past. 
And Chloe, old and feeble, 

With her returns at length; 
Still madness clings t-o Allie, 

Though scarce with former strength. 
She had been melancholy 

And silent when away, 
But remembered Berkeley's cottage, 

As if not gone a day. 
She showed some little gladness, 

Then took her window seat, 
And at the Oaks intently 

She gazed with olden heat. 
She warmly greeted Willie, 

Her father, too, she knew, 
But of her ancient neighbors 

Remembered very few. 
A week or two passed over. 

Then words and posture showed 
A strange hallucination 

Within her forehead glowed. 
She seemed like one expectant, 

And ever waiting now, 
And not with brooding sadness 

As formerly to bow. 
While now and then she'd murmur. 

As if in self amaze, 



PLANTATION LAYS. 

"I thoiiglu I would Ikivc licard it 

Long since, or seen the blaze." 
And if she chanced to notice 

One moving toward the Oaks, 
To liim she beckons warnings 

And not to go invokes. 
She evidently fancied 

Her prisoner still secure, 
And the debris still burning. 

The loud explosion sure! 
The doctors gave o})inion, 

A crisis was at hand. 
When mania would forsake her. 

Or turn to stronger brand. 
Quite urgent were their cautions 

To guard from every chance 
Of sudden, strong excitement. 

Which might th' event advance. 

The papers meanwhile daily 

Were filling every page 
With burnings, stealings, shootings, 

Such was the races' rage. 
And all throughout the county. 

Both main and private road. 
Each night with red-clad horsemen. 

Patrolling, overflowed ; 
And e'en the court house village 

Was guarded, too, till day. 
Yet many a conflagration 

Still shone with reddening ray. 
One night while dragged the contest 

Her lover spent the eve 



PLANTATION LAYS. 45 



With AUie till his column 

Should pass, when he must leave. 
Quite mournful his reflections, 

As he sat her hand in grasp ; 
'•'Oh ! is there naught can save her. 

And snatch from madness' grasp? 
So young as yet, so lovely. 

She stirs like music's self; 
To cure her I would squander. 

If mine, the wide world's pelf. 
She wakes in me emotions 

No other's sight can rouse, 
My breast will e'er be vacant 

If heaven our parting allows. 
For my heart has been torn from my bosom. 

And placed on her tender shrine, 
God grant that her reason, like sunshine. 

May break forth — and then she'll be mine.'' 
But his comrades call, he leaveth. 

While, with the weird look of a seer. 
She says, "Good-night, 't is coming, 

Revenge at last is near." 

The column on their mission 

Adown the road deploy. 
And watch till all aweary 

Their relief is hailed with joy. 
As they repass the cottage. 

They see by the light within 
That Allie is still at the window. 

And she starts at their passing din, 
And open throws the sashes. 

And utters loud the cry : 



PLANTATION LAYS. 

"Al)l)r()ach not ! it is coming ! 

Revenge's sweet hour is nigli I" 
Then she j)oints to the old mansion, 

Where all the horsemen stare, 
And they start and cry of sudden, 

For there shines a brilliant glare ! 
A streak of fire is stealing 

And creeping up the house, 
They gallop wildly to it, 

And the sleejjing inmates rouse. 
The Oaks burns fast, — no buckets — 

The reservoir on top 
Has lop.g been idle ornament, 

About to pieces drop. 
The match of negro prowlers 

Had done its tatal work; — 
They haunted bush and thicket 

Would in your outgrounds lurk ; 
They'd dodge the patrol; watch-dogs 

They'd hush with poisoned meat, 
Then break, steal, fire, or outrage. 

With Indian's noiseless feet. — 
From all attempts to extinguish 

They very soon withdrew, 
And fell to moving furniture, 

*Twas all that they could do. 
Among the things they rescued 

Was the famous cellar's store; 
You'll feel surprised, as armory 

To hear 't was used once more. 
The Rifle Club would gather 

At the Oaks as central place; 
Of weapons, i)owder, cartridges 

Was stored there many a case. 



PLANTATION LAYS. 47 



From wood-heap in piazza 

The fire sprang, 't was found; 
It traversed side and roofing, 

Ere inside or to ground. 
So all the cellar's contents, 

And those of parlor, room, 
They save before the dwelling 

Is half of flames a tomb. 
Then sadly from the garden 

They look upon the blaze, 
When sudden a mournful object 

Attracts their wondering- gaze. 
'Twas the maddened maiden dancing, 

Not far adown the lawn, — 
Spread to breeze her tresses — 

As lovely as a fawn. 
x\nd presently notes of music, 

As sweet as a dying bird's. 
Trilled from her lips of ruby, — 

Though wild the stirring words: 

" " O tramp not on the serpent, 

Or his venomous tooth will strike ; 
And kick not the sickened lion, 

For strength may revive vk'ith dislike. 
Throw down what you spurn with a caution. 

For often there cometh recoil ; 
Be careful to stand from the building. 

Your hands would tear down and despoil. 

■' You have trampled on the serpent. 

And the weakened lion struck, 
You have thrown us to earth with our fortunes, 

— You have sipped the sweet chalice of luck ! 
Rut a bell in the distance is ringing. 

And there flaps at your window a wing, 
The dread form of vengeance is crouching. 

And nothing will save from his spring !" 



PLANTATION LAYS. 



Iler lover tried to (aim her, 
But wilder fast she grew, 
And when the flames high-mounted, 

Out from the lawn she flew; 
She beckoned all to follow, 

And cried : *' 'Tis here at last. 
Flee far from the fated mansion, 

In time to escape from the blast." 
To all it was aj^parent 

She thought her. olden foe 
Was still within the cellar, 

Where she fastened him long ago; 
And she was madly certain 

The house with mighty noise 
Would soon blow up, and kill him, 

So at the gate she joys. 
Then sudden, like the lightning, 

Flashed a thought on Willie's brain, 
And he hastens to call the gazers, 

And his lucky device explain. 
He had heard, he said, that one's reason 

Is often awakened, when lost, 
By the sudden seeing or meeting with things 

Whi( h your path in old time had crossed. 
And if sudden and strong emotion 

From its place first shook the mind, 
If reshaken bf passion severe as the first, 

'Twill again to its place be consigned. 
So he seized a keg of powder, 

And wrapped it thic k around 
With several blankets, wetted, 

Whic h lying round he found. 
No words will stop, he warns them 

To leave the dangerous jjlace; 



PLANTATION LAYS. 49 



They go, and he waiteth patient, 

Till he sees them off some space. 
Then shouldering keg, he chargeth, 

Mounts flaming porch, and throws 
His burden far in the hall way 

Where yet no fire glows. 
Then off he springs and races. 

As never he raced before, 
Half charred with lapping flame-tongues, 

And deafened by their roar. 
He rushes down the avenue. 

But stops when half the way, 
And behind an ancient oak tree 

He crouches, — and well he may; 
There comes a sound terrific, 

And volcanic, meteor flash. 
And the grand old Berkeley mansion 

Hath met its final crash. 
The fragments, like vast rockets. 

Rise to heaven and fall again, 
And the fearful boom and its echoes 

Shake the country, and rouse all men. 
And then the gleam of madness 

Shone fierce in the maiden's eye. 
And she wildly danced by the flaming 

That reddened the midnight sky: 

" Oh do not press the Russian, 

Or he burns his proudest town ! 

O do not goad a Samson, 

Or he teareth the temple down ! 

" You have goaded the blinded Samson, 
And the fleeing Russian pressed, 

And song and legend forever 

Their vengeance will attest." 



so PLANTATION LAVS. 



They lead her away to the cottage, 

She laughs and sings as she goes ; 
Her mania, alas! seems strengthened, 

And all through the night it grows. 
She does not rise in the morning, 

A crimson fever hums; 
She lies long weeks, and raveth, 

But at last the illness turns; 
And she lies there quiet and teeble, 

And pale, her sweet eyes closed ; 
Long time she lay there silent, 

But she wakened at length composed '. 
Round the strange room looked she wondering, 

And then for her mother called, — 
Ah, bitter at first the waking, 

But madness was disenthralled ! 
Her Willie was her savior, 

By his perilous wild design. 
And his splendid hero's promptness, 

When there was no time to refine. 
The delusion all absorbing 

That held her brain in throe 
Was by th' explosion gratified, — 

And then it had to go. 



This almost ends my story ; — 
About a year was i)asse(l 

Ere Will and Allie wedded. 
But it came about at last. 

It happened at the cai)ital 

Where both their fathers dwell. 



PLANTATION LAYS. 51 



And hold again high office 

Since black dominion fell. 
Old Chloe waited on her, 

And tottered in delight, 
''She had decked old Miss at her wedding, 

And why not Miss Allie to-night?" 
As Willie's marriage present, 

His father gave the Oaks, 
Insurers had rebuilt it 

Ere had cleared away its smokes. 
And Allie in the church yard — 

Sought ought the earliest day — 
Cried much (not all in sorrow^. 

Upon her first survey. 
A tall but broken column 

Of frosted marble is there. 
And carved her mother's name and this: 

"How long, O Lord?" appear. 
And in a gloomy dungeon, 

Within the prison of State, 
A familiar form was lying. 

While the wedding guests were elate. 
It was the carpet-bagger 

Whom Allie would once have slain, 
At last to justice accounting 

For the larcenous crimes of his reign. 
But very joyful Whitmire 

When his eyes with the sun were unclosed, 
For they brought him the Governor's pardon, 

— But terms were there imposed : 
''You're pardoned, he7- prayer hath saved you. 

But this I must ordain. 



TLANTATIUN LAVS. 

'I'hat you '^o from the State where you ghitted your 
hate, 

And never ( onie bac k again." 
And working on a railway, 

In after years, a gang 
Were seen of dusky convicts, 

'Twas l)etter far to hang ! 
(Alas ! if ever torture 

That passeth human speech, 
Cirinds soul and mind to lorutishness, 

And frame past cure of leech. 
Was ever seen 'mong prisoners, — 

E'en on the galley bench — 
'Tis where the leasing system 

Emits its putrid stench. 
Ah : blot it out forever I 

— Take not my single word, 
Pjut let the voice of Cable 

And all the world be heard ! 
But I've seen to censure prisons 

All through this mighty land,— 
State, county, Northern, Southern, 

In shameful plight they stand ; 
They're freezing in the winter. 

In summer are Black Holes, 
With vermin, filth, poor feeding, — 

While jailor-l)rute controls. 
More service get the clients 

Whom I see in jail confined, 
Than those on bail, — my pity 

Rouses all my soul and mind. 
We justly may imj)rison. 

But not torture at the stake. 



PLANTATION LAYS. 53 



O shade of Howard warn us, 

O politicians wake ! 
Grand-juries, ever shallow, 

Presentments cease to file 
Praising the jail's good order ! 

— Report the system vile !/'' 
Among them those whose torches 

Had fired the mansion last. 
That night when AUie, dancing, 

x\t last heard the terrible blast; 
These too were given freedom. 

Will's plea their pardon won, — 
He owned that by their arson 

Was Allie's cure begun. 
And after a due conviction. 

And a year or two of pain. 
Knowing their evil counsels, 

He saved them from the bane. 
Then, too, it pleased his Allie, 

Who, sane, is ever crossed 
With pain, if any enemy 

In revenge is put to cost. ^ 

She is ever kind and tender 

To every thing that's frail. 
Will weep if hound is bleeding,^ 

And e'er start at human wail. 
And sometimes she composes 

A verse or plaintive song. 
Which always counsels pity 

When the weak offend the strong. 

Oh stop ! think as above me 
You stand to strike the blow, 

That I've had few to love me. 
And much to undergo. 



PLANTATION LAVS. 



For fortune never brightly 

Shone on my pathway lone. 
No food by day, and nightly 

My head upon the stone ! 
And it was far more mournful 

Beneath the load to bend. 
Because the world was scornful. 

And quick to reprehend. 

then, how can you wonder 
That I should bitter be, 

That I should slay and plunder 
To 'scape from misery ? 

1 will not say 'tis rightful 

To stain your hands with crime, 
But poverty is frightful, 

Endurance is sublime! 
And think if I have deeply 

My hands in sin imbued, 
The world might once so cheaply 

Have saved what has ensued. 
Vou'd own if you had sadly 

Been forced my life to live, 
You must have done as badly ; 

Then can you not forgive? 
O I would mind it scarcely 

With even death to meet, 
Since fate has served so fiercely, 

Yet spare me— life is sweet. 




PLANTATION LAYS. 55 



THE OLD DRIVER'S LfiMENT, 



I used to sound the mornin' horn to call the darkies up, 

For to get their breakfasts, ere the daylight broke. 
Because I was the driver then, and had an easy time, 

For I made the others work and feel the stroke. 
But now Fm old and has to work, my chilluns all are 'way. 

And old Massa and his folks are dead, or poor; 
I rings the white folks' church-bell, and I farms the quar- 
ter field. 

And my freedom's brought me little good, Fm sure. 

Of all the quarters in the land this was the biggest one. 

But my lonely house is all that's left to stay; 
The colored folks have gone to live within the new Free- 
Town, 
And they've bought their huts and moved them far 
away. 
The street and land on which the cabins once was 'rected 
thick 
And the gardings, too, are now within the field. 
And those dark, tall spots of cotton where the houses 
used to stand. 
By these alone the past is now revealed. 

The well has vanished, too, the pole and beam have rotted 
down. 
And the hollow tree-curb long ago caved in; 
I gets my water now from out the spring just in the woods, 

For my young gran-chile can tote it far — and spin; 
And her wheel-buzz whistles 'cross the field and makes a 
mournful noise. 
For I used to hear a dozen at a time ; 



f)3 ri.AN lAIIoN I. A VS. 

And there's now no guineas cacklia' loud, and nightfall 
hears no more 
Of calling up the hogs the niclhjw ( iiime. 

The ole mule gin and packin' screw you cannot see no more, 

For they keeps a press and toll-gin in the town, 
And the barn and stables too are gone, excei>' the fodder crib. 

And the fodder crib is fast atumblin' down. 
The overseer's house is burnt and mine's a-gettin' ole. 

And rickety and shaky, like myself, 
For the chimbly bricks are loose on top, the mouldin' roof 
it leaks, 

And nearly down's the steps and water shelf. 

CHORUS. 

I dunno how to get along, I was not raised to this, 
For slavin where I once had full command ; 

My ole woman's gone before me, and I soon will follow her. 
For my head's a-whitening for the other land. 



POOR BOSS. 



Poor boss is lying low to-night, 

He will not see the day ; 
I've hoped him out in many a fight, 

But now he tells me, "Nay." 

Poor boss is dying ! O I ne'er 
Believed 't would come to this, — 

To die within the cabin here. 

When the big house once was his. 



PLANTATION LAYS. 57 



Poor boss is lonely, — all are 'way, 

Old Missis is no more ; 
Young Missy's teachin' off for pay, 

Young Massa's in the store. 

Poor boss ! your birthday gift was me ! 

They raised me by your side ; 
And when I heard that I was free, 

I said with you I'd bide. 

And true I've been, poor boss, to you, 
Though gone the rich old time ; 

And I hope we'll soon be joined anew 
Within the heavenly clime. 



THE CHARLESTON FSIRY. 



I've seen and read of many a maid 

Whose face and form were lovely, airy; 
But all their beauties pale and fade 

Before the Charleston King Street Fairy ! 
That olden city is the Troy 

Or Saragossa of the nation. 
But her women make her chiefest joy, 

And give her widest reputation. 

I love her breezy Battery, 

With glorious relics seaward looming; 
Each house with latticed balcony 

And orange gardens around it blooming; 
I love to hear the ancient bells 

In mother's church, St. Michael's, chiming; 
Most Charleston objects teem with spells, — 

But her girls on King street set me rhyming. 



58 PLANTATION LAYS. 

Yet it is not so much tlicir form, 

Nor glory of their Southern beauty, 
That thrills you hke the wild alarm 

Which sends the fire brigacie to duty. 
Their looks are rare, and make you stare. 

ihil do not form their chief attraction; 
It is the soul that's glowing there 

That whirls your blood and pulse to action. 

The Charleston maiden can surpass 

In doing three things all existence: — 
In raven locks and eyes the lass 

Of Spain leaves others at a distance; 
The English girl has azure eyes, 

And blooming cheeks, and sunny tresses; 
New York and Paris ladies prize 

Their jewels, toilets, costly dresses. 

Kentucky shows most si)len(li(l growth 

And size in women, men and horses; 
Virginian manners, ease — in both. 

The sexes — every one endorses; 
The Nation's Daisy Miller's known 

For fresh, frank freedom o'er the ocean ; 
The Creole fair ones stand alone 

For willowy shape and languid motion ; 

The Boston girl has studied most. 

In learning chief dependence places; 
The Persians and Circassians boast 

Their perfect female forms and faces; — 
But none like Charleston's maid can 7i'alk^ 

Her dancing makes all rivals wary. 
And earth has never heard such talk 

As rattles from the King Street Fairy ! 



PLANTATION LAYS. 59 



Like twinkling stars her tiny feet 

E'er 'neath her, in and out are popping, 
And scarcely touch that dear old street 

In evening stroll or morning shopping. 
Up, down it's length, without a rest, 

Or round the bend, she'll spicy saunter, 
With kerchief talk, bow, pause to test 

Von Santen's cream, if it enchant her. 

And when you see her in the glide. 

Or any other kind of dancing, 
There's nothing earthly you decide 

So witching, utterly entrancing. 
Old poets, watch those mice-like feet 

Which peep and hide, of day-light scary! — 
Your Julias are completely beat 

And Easter suns by Charleston's Fairy ! 

And conversation's never heard 

On all the globe like Charleston's ladies'. 
— A form that sculptors worship's blurred. 

Unless possessed of warmth the maid is ! 
Some girls are dolls; — though beauty's such 

As from his Psyche to tempt Cupid, 
They Quaker parties make — the Dutch 

Are not themselves one half as stupid. 

In Charleston women Nature pours 

Just twice the life she grants to others, 
So bubbling talk bursts out in stores 

From girlhood till they're wives and mothers. 
Each always takes you just aright, 

Her soul divines your every feeling, — 
Your mood attunes her converse bright 

Or laugh, like silver bell outpealing. 



flO i'LAMATlON LAYS. 



Ill otluT places if a man 

liululges in a little smiling, 
His wife or sweetheart takes the plan 

Of hooking grave, or loud reviling, 
l^ut Charleston girls will laugh at you, 

And take your antics off to-morrow; 
And, unrejiroxed, you vow to do 

No drinking that will bring them sorrow. 

But out of all who promenade 

This royal street of Charles's city," 
There is one rare and matchless maid 

Whose charms excel all bounds of ditty. 
Among that endless stream of fays, 

Her glancing feet antl rij^ijling laughter 
Impress you like the meteor's rays, 

Which make the stars seem paler after. 

Oh ! music hushes at her voice. 

But wakens to her waltzing, walking ! 
Your soul and being leap, rejoice, 

To hear her bright, vivacious talking! 
Oh ! count me of the Roman Church, 

Though of their doctrines once (juite chary 
If on their altars they will perch 

The image of this Charleston Mary! 

I know not when she takes her sleep, — 

E'er restless, e'er in animation ; 
And at her funeral none will weep, — 

She'll never die, to give occasion ! 
She's angel now! — Oh, my device 

To 'scape from death and regions Stygian, 
Is : Move at once to Paradise, 

And dwellin Charleston !—\y\^\.''i religion. 



PLANTATION LAYS. 61 



SOUTHERN MUNICIPAL ELECTIONS. 

K SATIRE.* 



There was once, on the banks of a Western rivaire, 

A man to be tried as a hog stealaire; 

So he goes to an office and employs a lawyaire, 

Who examines the case, and gives up in despaire. 

For he said: ''Sir, your guilt's so transparent and claire, 

I can't help you, would cheat you to take a.dollaire; 

You had better, my friend, come out on the squaire, 

Plead guilty, 'twill lighten your term by a yaire." 

But the fellow was hopeful, and said : " My dear saire. 

Just fire away, here's your retainaire. 

In regard to your losing, I haven't a faire. 

But if you should chance to, 'tis my own mattaire." 

So the trial came on, and the crime did appaire 

Bythe mouth of each witness who was put up to swaire. 

And the lawyer, though reputed a great orataire. 

Made the lamest defence that was everiieard thaire; 

And the stern old judge, with a terrible glaire. 

Charged the jury : "Find hira guilty," as far as he daire. 

So the jury went out, but in half an houaire. 

They returned him, "Not Guilty," mid a general staire ! 



*Florence friends will from this at last discover the author of an anonymous 
and untraceable municipal election squib, circulated here five years ago, which 
created some commotion, and of which copies are yet preserved about town. 
Many unkindly temporary and personal hits are expunged, in consonance with the 
sound principles of art and criticism, and a few modifications and readjustments 
made in consequence. The author has been tempted to publish not a few other 
local squibs in the same (or different) metres, which he has perpetrated duripg life, 
but his literary conscience has not only forbidden, but impels him to request any 
parties holding copies, who may now at last suspect the origin, to consign them to 
oblivion. 



62 PLANTATION LAVS. 

And (jf all the spectators who heard with woiidaire, 
There was no (jne more astounded than that ftllow's law- 

yaire ! 
So he called him aside when court rose for dinnaire, 
And said : '' There is something beneath this affaire 
That I don't understand, and I hereby declaire 
I'll return you the money if you'll explain the mattaire." 
The fellow, as cool as a cucumbaire, 
Said: "Old cock, it's a bargain, hand back my papaire ; 
Sir, the secret is this, I stole tJic i^nintairc, 
But diviJt'ii tJic bacon 701 th the twelve men /aire /' ' 

'Twas the same in New York where they started to raire 

Concerning Boss Tweed and his plunderings thaire. 

He locked up the records, and every vouchaire. 

Through fire and burglar began to disappaire. 

The people held meetings and every papaire 

Was calling for justice; the election was naire, 

So Tweed runs again, and scatters silvaire. 

Knocks the head from a barrel in each barroom thaire. 

Gags and bucks of every board the chief managaire 

To place illegal voters on each poll registaire. 

He saw he was j^laced in a tight cornaire 

And just said to the rabble : "In my spoils you can shaire." 

So he bought thirty thousand, and the ballot box thaire 

Rolled him out a majority that made us all staire. 

So you see that a verdict isn't always faire, 
Nor elections won with money and with Bumgardnaire. 
Yet the voice of the peoj)le rang loud and loudaire, 
Till Tweed left the State House for the Toombs jailaire. 
But they never would have caught him had he only dwelt 

ha ire. 
In South Carolina — of some town the mastaire. 



PLANTATION LAYS. 63 



For the number of the people is by far smallaire, 

And the problem's much simpler with the nigger votaire. 

Tweed spent half a million in legal tendaire, 

But the voters were white men and not the niggaire ; 

Had he here been some town boss a quart of liquaire 

And a dollar a nigger would have fixed the mattaire. 

And his triumph would have been such a signal affaire 

He'd have treated the population to a big suppaire, 

While his niggers, preceded by the boss managaire, 

Made a torch light procession through the main thorough - 

faire. 
And as long as these niggers, led by their preachaire, 
Dictated the nominations and the voting each yaire, 
Boss Tweed would have reigned till Gabriel's toutaire 
At last notified him his judgment was naire ! 

Some whites are disgusted, ask : " How shall we faire, 
If money and whiskey are to rule us each yaire ? 
We'd submit were we whipped at the ballot box squaire. 
But they whipped us at the till box and the liquor coun- 

taire. 
And we see but one way to prevent it next yaire, 
And that is to drop and count out the niggaire." 
But these contests are frolics, only come once a yaire 
To break the monotony, nothing's to seaire; 
There's far more bribing at elections elsewhaire — 
At the North and in England 'tis a business affaire. 
To sit in the Commons to each candidate thaire 
Costs five thousand sterling, as from books will appaire ; 
I first, too, felt angry, but now think it should chaire 
That in town elections we consult the niggaire; 
We have got him beside us forever to shaire 
Our good luck or ill, let us make him bettaire. 



tt4 PLANTATION LAYS. 



He was not fit to vote or l)e officehoklaire, 

When the Yankees enfranchised and made him mastaire; 

So fantastic his tricks during his brief powaire 

That the an<;els were saddened, shed many a taire. 

But when Hayes had withdrawn every Union soldaire, 

And the nigger was single, he treinl^led with faire ; 

Tlie State was republican two score thousand claire, 

Now the democrats carry it by that and ovaire; 

They've laid aside shot gun and revolvaire. 

And rely on arithmetic and tissue papaire. 

These work quite effectual and save from the faire 

Of rousing the Yankees with a dead niggaire. 

So the blacks are reduced to a mere ciphaire 

In general elections, and things are bettaire. 

The State is improving, both white and niggaire 

Are piling up money in a rapid mannaire ; 

The niggers own land and are treated quite squaire 

As long as in politics they don't interfaire. 

And I scarcely regret it, — a reign of terraire 

Was the era just passed of the carpet baggaire. 

While now to black freedom there's naught of dangaire, 

And time and the free school will mend their charactaire. 

They must creep ere they walk, and I discovaire 

Many tokens of good for their hereaftaire. 

As constables, bailiffs, police, they appaire. 

Quite frequent already, placed by white men thaire. 

To turn democratic is a certain levaire 

For negroes to office of a kind minaire, 

Though in Charleston (and one or two counties elsewhaire") 

The democrats have chosen a black legislataire ! 

In matters municipal no parties appaire. 

And the nigger's allowed a considerable shaire. 



PLANTATION LAYS. 65 



So though I'm revolted at the shameless mannaire 

He offers his vote for the mighty doUaire, 

Yet it will be training to both the niggaire 

In voting, and white men to vote with him faire ; 

There both sides bribe niggers, and give them liquaire, 

Split their vote, rely on them, and counting is squaire. 

If the nigger will hear me he'll no longer chaire 
For ^'de Party," but drop it like a coal of fiaire; 
Let him turn democratic, that party will taire 
In fragments the moment there's no fight to faire; 
Every runner for office will court the niggaire, 
Protect all his rights — and the pie with him shaire. 

1879. 



R SERENADE, 



'Tis a lovely Southern midnight, 

In the glowing summer time ; 
He stands in the beautiful garden. 

Where the vines to her window climb. 

No clouds, nor mist, and the heavens 
Are a blue ground, studded with gold. 

And the silvery beams of the moonlight 
Streak the tree-shades downward rolled. 

The scent of the rich magnolia 
Is abroad on the cool, moist air, 

And the dark green hedges and foliage 
Seem sculpturing, massy and rare. 



m rLA'NTATlON LAVS. 



And tlie soft, sweet strains of his iiuisic 
Rouse her up, as she dreamily sleeps, 

She lifteth her head for a moment, 
Aiul then to llie wintlow she tree[)s ; 

And wlien, for an instant, he pauses, 
A rustling is heart! from above, — 

And he hastily picks up the flowers. 
And kisses his hand to his love I 

TWO FATES, 



Her form was as delicate, melting, — 
With beauty, deep, glowing and ric h, — 

As the statues in echoing galleries, 
Each gracefully set in its niche. 

Her complexion was white as the marble, 
Her features so mobile with thought 

That passion shone on them like lightning. 
Once seen she was never forgot. 

She would pensively bend o'er the needle. 

Or do other service as light; 
Or wait at her young mistress' toilet. 

And sleej) on her tloor in the night. 

With the swarthy ones round her slie mingled. 
With the scorn of a militant race. 

Yet you saw her move round the old mansion, 
A\'iih sadness impressed on her face. 



PLANTATIOxV LAYS. 6: 

For oft from her mistress in passion, 

"You forget whom you are!" came the cry, 

And the red -blood would mount to her forehead, 
And the hot tear would start in her eye. 

From beneath the magnificent lashes 

That shaded the fiery beam, — 
Then her face in her hands she would bury. 

While passion burst forth in a stream. 

For oh ! this most delicate maiden, 

With the tresses that fall to the ground, 

Is a slave ! and the slightest of taints in the blood 
Is a curse that can ne'er be effaced. 

— It is whispered that from the plantation 

The trader once bore far away 
A quadroon slave mother forever, 

Though she prayed with her child to stay. 

But this child by that mistress was pitied, 
Whose hate sent the mother to roam. 

She was kept as the young lady's playmate, 
Aiid to tend on the beautiful home. 

And these maidens, the playmate and mistress. 
Have the tale ever kept from their reach 

That the mansion's imperious owner 
Could well be styled father by each ; 

So the one as her parent may hail him, 
And be honored and worshipped of all, 

While the other must call him her Master, 
And ever live under the thrall. 



68 



PLANTATION LAYS. 



For the bluotl in her veins is too anient 

To leave her content with her lot, 
Like the herd she is classed with, — she mourneth. 

But she cannot unravel the knot ! 




PLANTATION LAYS. 69 



R PLES FOR JIM, 



Almost always it is bitter to stan^d upon the brink 

Of the deep and icy waters, we shudder and we shrink; 

But sometimes one can truly ask, "Where is the sting of 

death, 
And where the victory of the grave?" as he yields his 

mortal breath. 

Despite the shock and agony, we think it sweet and grand' 
To die upon the battle field, to save our native land ; 
And the thought is very soothing that death will o'er us 

creep, 
As we lie at home on the sick bed, like a soft and gentle 

sleep; 

With our head upon the pillow, on which so oft before 

We've met with rest and pleasing dreams, or thought each 
purpose o'er, — 

With our weeping friends around us to bid the last fare- 
well. 

And some gentle hand upon our brow to soothe the pains 
that swell. 

[*These lines were composed at Darlington Court House, S. C, in October, 1879, 
during the rather restless night passed by the author before argument in case of the 
T/ie State vs. jfavies Cajiipbcll, a colored man, on trial for murder, and were 
actually repeated at the conclusion of the author's speech in defense next day, before 
Judge J . B. Kershaw and the jury, — though, it is needless to say, without announc- 
ing their source. Jim (being acq\iitted in spite of the verses) has since named a 
child after me, and I return the compliment by appending his name to my lines, 
which until herein printed stood "A Plea to the Jury," in MS. I will add that 
since 1877, executions have been private in S. C, — lest the verses mislead.] 



'■<» PLANTATION LAVS. 

Willi the dear old doc tor l)y our side, who has saved us in 

the past 
A hundred times and tries to now, hut's powerless at last, 
And to know we'll then be laid beside the loved ones who 

repose 
Beneath the willow, and the grass, that in tiie church yard 

grows. 

lint the convict has no mourning friends to cheer him as 

he tlies, 
lUit the brutal crowd swarm round him, to gape and strain 

their eyes; 
Beneath him are no easing folds on which to pass away, 
But the gallows and the tightening rope bear up their 

strangling prey. 

He has no hand to soothe him, all men are there to see 
That pitilessly is carried out the bloody law's decree; 
The troops among whose glittering ranks to fall it were 

such fame 
Are in array to see that he shall die a death of shame. 

E'en the doctors, e'er at other times intent to save and 

cure, 
Are there to see he's not cut down until the work is sure; 
Till his pulse is still and (piiet, and the life has ebbed 

awa}' ; 
When careless hands his body seize, and in the coffin lay. 

With his eyes blood-shot, protruding, and the foam upon 

his \']\), 
And then in a mean, ilishonored grave the corpse they 

quickly slip; 



PLANTATION LAYS. 71 



While his spirit, rudely torn away, of that region goes in 

quest, 
Where the wicked cease from troubling and the weary are 

at rest. 



LOYE AND ESTRANGEMENT. 

A MEDITATIYE ROMANCE. 



Ah ! there is naught can match the bliss 
Which every ardent lover feels 
When she to whom he pleads and kneels 

Allows him the warm betrothal kiss. 

And oh ! I ask the bards who paint 
The torments of the damned below, 
To say if there be deeper woe 

Than loss of her for whom we faint ? 

'Tis kinship of the soul makes love ; 
Some natures jar, seem ne'er in tune, 
While others, like the sun to noon 

Seem fitted, e'er together move. 

Because we've need for sympathy, 
Appreciation, tender, true. 
For some to trust, confide in, who 

Will feel with us, and laugh or cry. 



PLANTATION LAYS. 

So all love's sweet— in mother kind, 
In father, brother, sister, friend ; 
And torturing pangs the spirit rend 

If these are to its longings blind. 

I^iit— such of sex the natural charm- 
When we repose on woman's breast, 
When heart to throbbing heart is pressed, 

Flows sympathy most full and warm. 

i^ecause as boyhood into youth. 
Like dawn into the morning, opes. 
Our taste is palled by wonted hopes, 

By scenes and things that used to soothe. 

There comes a sense of unknown need. 
We muse and i)ine, we know not why, 
And aimless live, till by and by 

We suddenly awake, take heed : 

The soul has found it loves, at last ! 

A thrilling form within the view 

Has risen ; blindly we pursue, 
Stake weal or woe, upon the cast. 

And for each one there's some bright soub — 
Who'd suit no other, made for him; — 
Who seen will make his vision swim. 

And gained will make his nature whole. 

For there's a magnet force in love; 
A hundred girls may fail to draw 
A man to them, though not a (law 

Is in them, fair as those above. 



PLANTATION LAYS. 73 



But let him see the one that fate 
Designed for him, and he will start, 
Quick to his throat will leap his heart. 

And he must die or with her mate. 

So if we hold a needle near 
A hundred stones or iron bolts, 
No force within them draws or jolts, 

To them it never will adhere. 

But hold it near the magnet bar, 

Or lode-stone true, and it will spring 
To either one, and to it cling, 

Though you may roughly shake or jar. 

Yet I may err : to Boswell said 

Gruff Johnson, dear to English heart, ^ 
"The sexes have no counterpart ; 

A man could fifty thousand wed, 

And each would suit him just as well 
As any other; for 't were best 
Your wife to choose by cool behest 

Of judge, and not by passion's spell." 

Still, passion's strong ! I lived apart 
From men, my soul intent on fame, 
Long years, resolved to win the game, 

Though everything should try to thwart; 

No man, or great, or small, no king 

Could make me, cringing, yield to him, 
• And yet I've kneeled while all grew dim 
Before this slight and delicate thing. 



I'LANTAIION LAVS. 



I'd read of Maggie TulUver, 

Of Beulah, Myrrlia," and I'd long 
To find some girl amidst the throng 

Like them, so I could worship her. 

Yes, often, often, I had sighed 

To find one who could feel with me — 
Had sometimes thought, ''At last 't is she, 

I've found my own true love, my bride." 

But something told me each time ere 

I spoke, "She's not for thee,"— it passed ! 
But well 1 knew my love at last, 

When full I came within jw//- sphere .' 

At this, I know, the world would laugh. 
Men look on marriage business-wise, 
Think ''true love," "kindred souls," and sighs 

Are talk made of the veriest chaff. 

But I would die without you; none 
Save you would suit me; we are kin, 
Of soul, made each for each; I'd win 

The world itself if you were won ! 

And strange ! o'er books she does not pore, 

She loves not many things I love, 

But, like a voice heard from above, 
She thrills me, so I must adore. 

Ah ! she is joyous, young and warm, 

But just si.xteen, and life and -light, 

As if she were some vision bright. 
Breathe from her slender, chiseled form. 



PLANTATION LAYS. 

give me the girl of sweet sixteen ! 
Ere time her ardor has assuaged, 
Before she has grown formal, aged, — 

Crisp, fresh, each impulse swift and keen. 

For I detest the maiden cold, 

The one whom proper notions rule, — 
Who most of all's in loving cool, 

Shrinks from a kiss, thinks candor bold. 

1 love the girl who worships me ! 

Who, should I warmly kiss and press, 
Will tremble, blush, — but acquiesce; 
For love should not one-sided be. 

I love the girl who when my step 

Is heard, will start with reddening cheek, 
Who eager lists whene'er I speak, 

For love that's hidden 's shallow, cheap. 

For what is life unless we feel? 

Ah ! throw stiff custom to the dogs, 
Throw off each formal way that clogs 

The soul, and quenches ardent zeal ! 

Give me the man who speaks aloud. 

Whose face betrays what passion moves, 
W^ho wHole-souled works, or hates, or loves, 

Who never is by habit cowed. 

For so 't should be ! I love extremes; 
If one's e'er ardent for the wrong, 
He'll some day for the right be strong; 

He's weak who always moderate seems. 



I'I,AN r,\'!I().\ I. A vs. 

For rliythni and reaction rule 

In nature's works, not roniproniise,'" 
And he'll in old age be most wise 

Whose youthful i)nsv,ions least are cool. 

For none can reason, save they're stirred, 
And first were warmed to search, explore; 
And should we strive to teach before 

We've felt, our reasoning's weak and blurred 

And thus it happens that a time 
Of trusting, bigotry, precedes 
The doubt for, tolerance of all creeds; 

If deep the last, the first 's sublime. 

Yes, strange though 't is, fanatics are 

Cosmopolites and liberals 

Just in the bud,— the arsenals 
To gather future, needed ware. 

And hero worship, oft cried down, 
Is after all the core, the germ. 
Whence science springs, which we affirm. 

With justice, gives our age renown. 

O most of men will plod along. 

Contented with their dull, jjoor lot. 
And caring not one single jot 

For all the themes of science, song ! 

So when we see an earnest girl, 

Or boy who dreams and worships e'er, 
O give them hope! O give them cheer : 

They are of precious price a pearl ! 



PLANTATION LAYS. 77 



The crowd's so dull and stupefied 
By earthly ways, that if a man 
Were placed within perfection's van, 

To mark a change we long should bide. 

But take some girls of Maggie's stamp, 
Some boy Macaulays,^'''' Bacons, Watts, 
And give to them congenial lots — 

They'd grow as if released from cramp. 

And O ! the agonies that fall 

On genius born amidst the herd! 
O far, O far to be preferred 

Of fabled hells the burning thrall ! 

No wonder men of mighty mind 

And spirit, lacking sympathy. 

Burst, Byron-like, in awful cry 
That starts the world, relief to find. 

Nor that Mokannas, Bonapartes, 

And Caesars, maddened, frenzied, starved, 
Unsympathized with, fierce, have carved 

Their fame with sword, to move men's hearts. 

The conqueror's guilt, the antics queer 
Of him who sang of Auburn's fate. 
The brooding Manfred's ruthless hate. 

The same source have, — the need of cheer. 

Yet ah ! 'tis never possible 

To read all thoughts of those we love ; 

For like the hand within the glove. 
The spirit's hidden in its cell. 



I'l.ANTA'lIo.N I.AV.s. 

'•Spirit?" I spoke the cominon way ! 
I woukl, I would we were not Ijliiid 
And knew the truth; but ah : the mind 

May not the inner self survey. 

It call not look within itself, 

Still less can look beneath the face 
Of other men ; it leaves no trace 

When death has wrought — like vanished elf. 

We live; and then — sink back to earth? 
Or rise? Ah, 'tis the law of laws 
To know^ effects, but never cause ! 

mournful dearth .' (J mournful dearth ! 

— And can it really be my doom 
To lose the one was made for me? 
Then why did God e'er let me be, 

Or hold me from the welcome tomb? 

'Twas jealousy upon my part, 

On hers 'twas will and wounded pride. 

I left my youthful promised bride 
So bitter grew the ache of heart. 

1 boasted that I did not care, 

Alas ! I knew not what I spoke, 
The spell was strong, could not be broke. 
And it will haunt me now fore'er. 

I care not now to mix with men. 
My absent looks are noticed there; 
Nor do I meet with better ( heer, 

When all alone with book or pen. 



PLANTATION LAYS. 79 



When sometimes forced among the crowd, 
I see them marvel at my mirth, 
So loud and fierce — unnatural birth, 

As hollow vessels ring most loud. 

While those who cross me and oppose 
Start back before my deadly glance ; 
Yet see it is not arrogance, 

But moody recklessness that shows. 

An aching void is in my life, 
I have no one to feel with me; 
I loathe all things I hear or see. 

They fail to soothe my spirit's strife. 

I long to meet a loved one's look. 
To clasp her warmly to my breast, 
And feel her beating heart attest 

Her love for me has stood the shock. 

It may be that I did her wrong, — 
I acted blind; she told me, "Go !" 
But scorn, not guilt, she showed, and O ! 

Without a word we parted long. 

Ah ! who can say that beauty's naught, 
That ill can dwell in lovely fane?^^ 
By feelings, thoughts we entertain, 

x\re features and expression wrought. 

And is she not a lovely girl ? 

Gaze on her face and glorious form. 
You feel the blood roll quick and warm. 

And judgment rushes into whirl ! 



go IM.AN TAIIoN' LAYS. 

The face an artist loves to see, 

O'er Nvhicli the soul is playing e'er, 
Which ([uickly shows she is aware 

Of all that ^tirs you, grief or glee. 

The willowy form in Southlands made, 
So ''airy, fairy," in its grace; 
No stiff lines, angles, to deface. 

Soft, rounded, melting, every shade. 

And dreamy eyes, blue as the sea, 

Where gentlest thoughts are pictured e'er, 
That glorious wealth of golden hair,— 

Ah I daisies are not sweet as she. 

They tell me that she languishes 
As if she might be all undone, 
Like morning flower beneath the sun. 

So sad is she, and si)iritless. 

O who can tell why does she so? 
O can it be that she is torn 
By the same grief that me has worn ? 

Then whv should last our bitter woe? 



The slightest thing can change a life, 
No cruelty could last in her, 
And when my life was nigh a l)lur, 

We chanced to meet : paused awkward ; rife 



PLANTATION LAYS. 81 



We flushed. I knelt, said, "Love me, please; 

I love you, in you move and live; 

O ! can we not forget, forgive 
The things that part us, mar our peace?" 

And oh ! I feel the rapture now ! 

Her curls were on my breast again ! 

The storm-cloud passed from o'er me then, 
The heavens shone out, grief ceased to bow ! 



REFORMATION, 



O ! if Christ, as man, to mortals 

As of old appeared again. 
We should see the Church's portals 

Closed to him again, as then. 
For against what men think normal 

He would, as before, inveigh, 
Pharisaic, heartless, formal 

Yet is man in thought and way. 
So we'd see both laymen, preachers 

Rise against His doctrines strange. 
Call him one of those false teachers 

Who around for victims range. 
And about the Second Advent 

(If in humble guise He come) 
'Twill be writ: ''The people mad went. 

He again met martyrdom !" 
For we ne'er are rendered better 

By some sudden change of creed ; 
We may loud profess the letter — 

The old spirit rules the deed. 



S2 



ri.ANlAIIoN LAVS. 

And iiKinkiiul acts not to others 
As he'd have them act in turn, 
But each one against his l)rothers 

Seems with jealousy to burn. 
In the struggle for a living 

Or for honors others seek, 
All are taking blows and giving, 

And the strong crush down the weak. 
''Times were bad, but skies are brightening,' 

Thus we boast as we progress, 
But I doubt if steam and lightning 

Have increased our happiness. 
More men now to live are able 

Than could live in olden time; 
But these still are miserable. 

Toiling hard in dirt and slime. ^■- 
While some dwell in stately houses 

Millions into hovels crowd, 
Where one man eats, drinks, carouses. 

Ten are slaving, hunger cowed. 
Management succeeds to fervor 

In reforms; a livelihood 
Seeks the preacher now, subserver 

Of the fashion, not of good. 
And I sometimes think that Jesus 
Taught a creed we can't obey; 
Till our passions, ills release us 
We must on each other prey. 
For if love of life continue, 

And the love of woman last. 
Earth must swarm, and straining sinew 
Nor machine can save from fast. 



PLANTATION LAYS. 83 



And while hunger man oppresses 

Every one will work for self, 
Seeking first to live, successes 

Craze him, grows the love of pelf. 
Then there follows lust of power; 

And the strongest make advance, 
Till the millions helpless cower 

Underneath a tyrant's glance. 
Nor do individuals solely 

Strive their fellow men to blight, 
Well if this described it wholly ! 

But we band and nations fight. 
Knowledge waxes, but to blind men 

Matters it though glows the lamp 
On their path? and still we find men 

Warring, Europe all a camp. 
Then the race is custom ridden. 

Each one thinks his set the world, 
And — all heresy forbidden — 

Slowly is new thought unfurled. 
Tickle, flatter, — reputation 

Is upon the instant won ! 
But the path of Reformation, 

If your quest be glory, shun ! 
He who tries may gain a hearing 

Late when pleasure's gone from life 
Or, when dead, receive the cheering 

Which he needed in the strife. 
Yes, 't is evil prematurely 

For a youth to dare to think; 
Though he reasons strongly, surely. 

Men will laugh, and pass the wink. 



H4 



I'l.A.N iahon I. a vs. 

Silly comrades he surpasses 

Ridicule and persecute ; 

Patronage from age, alas! is 

SympatiiN 's poor substitute. 
For the old man laughs: "a dreamer, 

But in time he will amend; 
I, too, was in youth a schemer, 
I)Ut experience did unbend." 
Ah ! aged m-n act harshly, wrongly, 

Thus to smile at youthful hope; 
We might ( ure all ills, if strongly 

Each with his fair share would cope. 
But when old men bear so tamelv 

What when young they hated, loathetl, 
Can we marvel if yet lamely 

Moves Reform, pinched, starved, unclothed? 
Ah, yes! men and nations often. 

Like the Church, reject their Christ; 
Hard his task who tries to soften 

Hearts by custom hardened, iced. 
And methinks when on the pages 

Of the i)ast I read the tale 
Of the conflicts genius wages, 

This could be its owner's wail : 
" Cast me out, revile and censure, 

Cut me keenly, to the qui( k, 
If I e'er to serve you venture 

Insults follow fast and thick. 
Yet I thought if learning, merit 

Won respect, I'd not be stung, 
lUii the old curse I inherit, — 
'Tis atrocious to be young,'-' 



PLANTATION LAYS. 85 



But if youth had long since vanished, 

Could I hope for better cheer? 
No ! for men have ever banished 

Genius from its native sphere. 
Envy ! — truly spake the gentle 

Jesus, ' Honors end at home !' 
Talents ne'er are instrumental 

In the life race, save you roam. 
Ridicule me, say my speeches 

Are a nuisance, out of place; 
I submit, your act but teaches 

Worth at first is but disgrace. 
Drive me off — just Aristides, 

Ostracised, survived the blow ; 
Disraeli had to bide his 

Time when hissed at starting so; 
So Demosthenes was hooted 

At the outset; 'in their pride 
Perish sleepless souls,' naught booted 

By their genius, lofty, wide. 
Of all men the wisest, brightest, 

Dying left his fame sublime. 
Which at home was held the lightest, 

Unto aliens, future time.^* 
Yes, you spurn me, I am willing ! 

Yet I swear some future day — 
Should naught keep me from fulfilling 

All the tasks I would essay, — 
That I'll make you rue it deeply, 

Deeply rue the evil hour, 
When you chose to rate so cheaply 

One on whom Fame's gifts will shower. 



*^ PLANTATION LAVS. 

Vcs, I .swear it (k-cply, sternly, 

Men shall judge 'twixt you and me 
P>e my ashes in the urn lie 

Vou your cruel fault shall see! 
If I win in life's great battle, 

You may yet be pointed out 
As dumb, envious, driven cattle,'^ 

And the world will at you scout ; 
Saying: 'See the Lilliputians, 

And the Gulliver they bound !' 
— O your fault needs absolutions 
Numberless, past speech profound !' 

W'rUtcn a year or two after leavitii; College. 



THE WORLD'S FJIIR. 

1876. 

I saw the throngs, of them I was a part ; 

I moved a stranger midst the swelling tides. 

Lonelier than had I been where wonted glides 
My still existence, far from crowded mart. 
I saw the trophies there displayed of art, 

And gloried as I thought what vast advance 
Those treasures showed since first mankind made start 

In progress, crushed by want and ignorance. 
Hut there were things which saddened all my joy: 

I saw the monster gun at Essen"' cast, 
And thought: " Peace reigns a while, its arts employ 

The race; soon war si)reads ruin, dreadful, vast. 
Ah : why say things of old were all amiss 
And i^rogress boast, then weapons show like this?" 

Philadklpmia, August, 1S76. 



PLANTATION LAYS. 



SHE NEYER SMILES, 



I gazed upon her in the skating rink, 

Where crowds, on rollers, glided round the hall; 
She sat alone, and though she did not shrink 

From public gaze, she leaned against the wall, 
And seemed of far off things to dream and think. 

E'er now and then there came a slip, a fall. 
And all would laugh in hearty, sportsome style, 
But she looked pensive on, and did not smile. 

I met her in her uncle's parlors, where 

All things were redolent of wealth and taste, 

Some evenings crowds would go to parties there, 
Some evenings she by me alone was faced. 

She was not dull, and fully would she bear 

Her part in converse. Some with wit were graced, 

And we were jesting, laughing all the while; 

She heard, commented, but would never smile. 

I met her at the dance, where music swelled. 
Where light and beauty shone upon the scene, 

Where all the soul and all existence welled 
Into the limbs, and felt for motion keen. 

She joined the mazes; could aught have dispelled 
The cares of mind and made one feel serene 

'Twas this voluptuous whirl, which ran us wild 

With joy; — but though she waltzed, she never smiled. 



88 IM.ANTATIOX I. A VS. 

She was not shy nor iiiisoi)hist icated ; 

She ( ame of those wlio trace their lineage bac k ; 
Her education could not low be rated, 

Her manners richest culture did not ]iu k ; 
So(Mety's best life she knew till sated, 

In town and country travels was not sla( k ; 
She was agreeable, talked well, was sought; 
Hilt she was never known to sniile at aught. 

All ! she had grace and deepest loveliness; 

She seemed to me some grief-wrecked, fair Lucile 
Or convent-sister who relieves distress. 

But sorrow ne'er had acted to congeal — 
Few beings could a gentler past possess; 

While present, future, teemed with only weal. 
'Twas Nature's bent, Madonna's lioly style 
Was her's, so lovely, pure, devoitl oi' smile; 

And sculi)tors would delight to model her, 
Or artists to portray her on one knee, 

With hands upraised and clasi)ed, her soul astir. 
Her face to heaven upturned, in meekest plea. 

Oh ! she would make a Virgin clear of blur, 
An ideal Mary for us all to see; 

So holy, calm, so guiltless of all guile, 

So infinitely yearning, free of smile. 



ENVIRONMENT, 



Oh Chatterton, O Shelley ! I have oft 

Wept o'er your sad tales with true sympathy; 

The worltl laughs at emotion, calls it soft, 
But fellow feeling cures austerity. 



PLANTATION LAYS. 89 



&' 



For never yet did mortal sin or err, 

Laugh, groan;— when others called it foolish, wrong 
But things within his life, and character, 

Unseen to others, hurried him along. 

There never yet was upright juror, judge. 

Trying some lowly prisoner for crime. 
But would have sinned the same, if, born to drudge. 

He, too, had slaved for bread in dirt and slime. 

O ! easy is it for the man of means, 

Lolling his life away 'mid comforts, joys. 

To thank God what a distance intervenes 

Between himself and those that crime employs. 

Why should he err? his wishes gratified, 
In ease reclined, he feels no care nor want. 

But let him take the poor man's place he'd chide, 
Fast, shiver, toil, would he be complaisant? 

We are all circumstance's creatures! each 
Would act alike if breeding, ills concurred. 

O let us think ere homilies we preach 

" Had we been placed the same, then we had erred. 

O Tolerance ! thou brightest gem of time, 
The last and best sensation man evolves, 

How long before to hate one 'twill be crime. 

Who different from yourself life's problems solves? 

Yes, destitution, bodily desire 

Would make the purest, gentlest angel sin; 
But men have not perceived that just as dire 

To some men are the hungerings within. 



IH) IM.ANTATION LAVS. 

Oh, 1 luivc passed my days a lonely man, 
I've lived anumg, nut of the crowd around, 

No drop to drink, though everywhere I scan, 
Unmeasured ot eans, boundless seas are found. 

And you have laughed at me and patronized, 
Considered me a harmless, dreaming hov, 

A theorist, a student, signalized 

By fear of men, distaste for plcaMnx-, i. u\ [ 

So coy in fact that naught could tempt his talk, 
Could draw his presence, make him seem at home 

With other men ; firm ever as the rock 

To shun the world, he bends o'er ponderous tome. 

Oh ! you have never dreamed he dared to think — 
Think for himself, and you to criticise; 

Oh, could you see, you'd start from him, ami shrink — 
The depth of storm that 'neath the calmness lies. 

I've longed to throw the gage down, tell the men 
Who've loutlly to my face spoke out their thought, 

Not dreaming I could think, had mine own ken. 

That I, too, thought, and — not all things they taught. 

In Carolinians flows the Hotspur blood. 

Their State's the Harry Percy of the States; 

Brave, generous, rash, there's nothing understood 
Of half way measures in their loves and hates. 

Oh 1 I have known \our si)irit far too well ; 

Your fiery blood within mine own veins burns. 
My quiet life, reserve, hath been a hell, 

From discipline e'er soul impulsive turns. 



PLANTATION LAYS. 91 



But why, like Arnold, leap upon the spears? 

When there are none to help, to follow one. 
Unlike to Curtius, maddened one appears 

Who plunges in the gulf with reason none. 

If one loves truly, yearns to help some cause. 
He proves how deep his love not by a wild, 

Impetuous effort, but by making pause 

Till tells his sure blow, meanwhile though reviled. 

And I have loved the truth, have spent my life 
In quest of truth, and I will show my love 

Not by the rush called for by feelings rife, 
But by such halt as reason will approve. 

1875-6. 



"FIRST principles; 



I once was friendly with an eremite, 
A pale, sad, stern, abstracted college youth. 
Who shunned all men, — till children at his sight 
In passing ceased their play, looked awed, uncouth, - 
Whose midnight lamp in his lone search for truth 
Gleamed steady from the casement blinds aloft. 
We thought him quite eccentric, and forsooth. 
Although in life I've seen strange beings oft, 
His equal never. But we never at him scoffed. 



''•i PLANTATION LAYS. 

r^r he was posted in our stiKlies all, 
In conniii'; pa^^cs from the classic lore, 
In theorem and science, all we call 
Good letters in the modern writers' store. 
But 1 discovered that he pondereil o'er, 
The most, religion and philosophy, 
And day by day he talked, confided more ; 
And College done some years, he made such cry 
Of woe, as I've ne'er heard. To cite it I will try : 

*'Alas ! what use is it to hold aloof 
From what is wrong, to languish and to pine 
For better things? Nay would it be behoof 
If we past doubt could ascertain, define 
What things would be perfection? —every sign 
And proof we gain by conning Nature's laws 
Shows, ah too surely ! that the whole design 
Of Nature never will permit a ])ause 
In the stern cause of evil; ever will be flaws. 

"Oh, I have pored, for many a weary hour, 
O'er treatises whose object 't was to show 
Some consolation for the ills that shower 
Upon the world. They say that long ago 
The world was worse than now, men had more woe ; 
That the hereafter shall still better be 
And future men still happier; it is slow, 
Improvement's march; but, as they all agree, 
Is sure; the distant future will perfection see. 

''What mockery's here I — 'tis said when death's ilark 
doom 

Against the Orient prisoner is decreed. 
If one agrees to suffer in his room, 
The law is satisfied, the felon's freed; 
Thus often guiltless men for guilty bleed. 



PLANTATION LAYS. 93 



Oh, this is well for those who live, survive, 
Whom friends — Alcestis-like — will supersede, 
Or who get deputies by donative, 
But would we be the other who must cease to live ! 

'^\nd does it comfort us, if we reflect 
That future men will have contentment, joy. 
While we are wretched, suffering, deject? 
Thoughts of supposed Milleniums oft employ 
The minds of men, but can they give alloy 
To present sorrow, if to think we halt? 
Ah, no ! this question will. our pleasure cloy; 
' What good to us, when rotting in the vault. 
The golden times which will the coming race exalt !' 

"And after all, what is this progress worth? 
Suppose that we could ride ten times as fast, 
Send thought to distance quick as it has birth, 
Cure ails, live better, healthier, than in past, 
Let countless goods material be amassed; 
Yet still would we be happy? there's the test 
By which alone all eras must be classed; 
And had we reached what will be progress' best 
We still should be unhappy, languish, have unrest. 

"For will we ever know what follows death, 
If we are forms that matter chanced to take ? 
If thought is motion, and when stops our breath 
Then ceases life, we sleep ne'er more to wake? 
Or have we soul within us, which will shake 
The gross clay from it, when earth's life is quenched. 
And glad, or slow, this world to e'er forsake 
Search distant regions where joys will retrench 
All earthly ills — or where 't will be in torments drenched? 



9* I'LA.N TArioN I. A VS. 

*M)ut vain the iiuestion, all important, though; 
For consc iousncss our grasp will e'er elude. 
I'here's something back of what we think and do, 
We trace its workings some; none has pursued 
The search till ended, and the origin viewed. 
And till we pierce the secret, happiness 
Will still eschew us as 't has e'er eschewed. 
But there are other things whic h wuuld depress 
If e'er to farthest liuman limits we progress. 

''For we've e'er pined to know what underlies 
The universe, what caused, supports all things. 
Force, it may be, in space and time gives rise 
To what things do and seem, what to them clings. 
But this relieves not all the falterings 
Which we've e'er felt when we contemplated 
That finalest of problems— for whence springs 
What we call force, what is it? None has read 
That secret, nor what's flitting time? or space o'erspread 

''Let sages think and search, their triumphs are 
But tracing back effects to causes lower, 
And underlying all things we're aware 
Of something which defies thought's utmost power, 
Unknowable. Though knowledge would devour 
All things whatever, yet there's not one fact 
Or thing, though simple, which we can explore 
In substance, birth. And we shall e'er be racked 
With bitterest anguish while these things remain untracked. 

"But not alone would yearnings of the soul 
Impair our hap[)iness, but there' d remain 
Material ills— 'spite progress— dealing dole. 
The fight for life will ever us enchain. 
Will ever bring its fearful share of pain. 



PLANTATION LAYS. 95 



Suppose reclaimed, stocked full with men the earth, 
These men well cherished under science' reign : 
Yet, passion's ruthless, there would be new birth, 
The strong will rear their offspring, though the weak get 
dearth. 

*'In time the human race must supersede 
All other forms of life, and then will come 
A contest mid its members, and the meed 
Will fall upon the strongest ; for the doom 
Of those not fit and strong is death and gloom. 
Ah! sad it is, but happiness is based 
On misery, because to make it bloom 
Intense on some, most others deep must taste 
Of woe, must lose their weal which on the few is placed. 

'' What good is science? — for machines to save 
Labor severe, though they enable more 
Of mortal men to live, yet all must slave 
Hard as before; for now as heretofore 
The law Malthusian, hard though we deplore. 
Must hold its course. The lifeless instrument 
When first invented much will swell our store 
Of time and means; yet, e'er improvident. 
Offspring increase, till all we gained on them is spent. 

''But what if Progress was as perfect here 
As it could be when reached earth's utmost bounds? 
How long would it continue? Ah, 't is clear 
That here, as ever, mournful answer sounds ! 
For all the spheres upon their orbits' rounds, 
Our own and all, existence all, must be 
Resolved at last to mist ! Ah this confounds 
The very hopefuUest, — that destiny 
Of earthly progress simply's nebulosity. 



••*■' PLANTATION I.AV8. 

"For th' universe, with all its various life, 
(Jrcw troin a measureless and mattery cloud, 
And when the time comes, when shall end the strife 
Of evolution, mist will be our shroud, 
And then witii the same properties endowed 
This mattery cloud will cool to worlds again, 
And these turn cloud once more I oh, crushed and bowed 
Beneath remorseless laws, we here remain, 
Unhapj)y, longing, helpless, moaning in our pain. 

'• What boots it, then, to fret beneath our lot, 
To hunt for ills and pine about their cure? 
Are we not here jjart of a j^Ian and plor ? 
From kicking 'gainst the goad can good enure ? 
Each thing of life is born, becomes mature. 
Produces offspring, languishes and dies: 
The chiefest pleasures, then, the only sure, 
Are eating, drinking, loving, resting! wise 
'i'he man who revels here, drops aspirations, sighs. 

"Yes, after all there is no hai)|)iness 
Which equals that which from these sources flows. 
Oh, to be hai)|)y we must acquiesce 
In what experience, what reason, shows 
To be inevitable; who but knows 
We are put here, each in peculiar place, '^ 
To draw nutrition, propagate till mows 
The scythe of death, when, lying 'neath the grass. 
We'll rot and into other forms of matter pass! 

"Oh, I've done wrong to rail upon mankind ! 
They seize the pleasures of the present hour, 
They neither look ahead, or look behind. 
Think not on evils that above them tower; 



PLANTATION LAYS. 97 



They seek each other; when within their power 
They rest from labor, shimber, feast and drink, 
Seek beauty's arms within the nuptial bower. 
And they do right! why should I weep and think 
Of what the world should be, and from my fellows shrink?"' 



LSCK OF STAMPS, 



[Dedicated to a young gentleman friend who had been engaged for four years.] 



I clasp you to my heart, my love, 
And sip the nectar from your lip. 

And feel as if I were above. 

While fleet the moments onward slip. 

And warmly you return the press 
And kiss me back again, my love. 

But short these gleams of blissfulness. 

Dark clouds their shadows forward shove. 

For though }ou're in my arms, my love. 
Though daily I am at your side, 

'Tis fated by the powers above 
That you may never be my bride. 

For there, alas ! is many a bar 

Can sever nearest hearts, my love; 

— We could not touch, though near, the star. 
If cased our hand in iron glove. 



PLANTATION LAYS. 



O! all the tears wf shed, my luve, 
Arc due nut to the wealthy swain, 

Who warmly strives to win his dove, 
But finds he is not loved again. 

For wed her — if she willed — he could, 
And he may find another dove; 

Hut wed 7c>r ma\' not, though we would. 
Nor could 1 wed another love. 

Ah ! what's this cruel bar, my love, 
That parts us and our being cramps — 

What is this dark decree above? 

'Tis merelv,— well, the lack of stamps! 



M INSCRIPTION, 



[Written on the fly leaf of a young lady's autograph album.] 



Ask a girl for her fnt and she will not resist, 
But writes it quite childdike and bland ; 

But all are aware 'tis a different affair, 
If you ask for the gift of her hand. 

Now if it shall haj) that any \oung ihap 
In this Albtmi e'er finds such a fist, 

As to wish and demand and be \ ielded the hand, 
My object shall not have been missed 1 



PLANTATION LAYS. 99 



M EXCUSE, 



[Written in shorthand in the album of a young lady in Charleston.] 



You asked me to write, but such was my plight 
That though I searched volumes of song, 

I found not a line, which I'd like to assign 
To a place in your Album's choice throng. 

And I even did worse, when I turned from the verse 
Of others, and tried my own hand ; — 

So spare me abuse, if I write this excuse 
Instead of some sentiment grand ! 



MAJOR SPREID. ' 

A BURLESQUE ON AN ACTUAL INCIDENT, 

Read from the Reading Box of Eiiphradian Society, at College, when the author 
was just seventeen. Given uncorrected.] 



From ancient Greece a host of heroes sprang 
Far famed in rapine, deeds of blood and spleen 

And of their actions Father Homer sang, 
Outdoing every author that we've seen. 

But of their battles we have heard enough ! 

A modern is the subject of my song. 
Inspire me, Muse, and though the ways are rough 

To thy bright temple, let me not go wrong. 



100 I'KANTATION I.AY8. 

I sing the actions of fierce Major Spread, 

A hero and a Carolinian trne, 
Who by the fair ones and good whiskey led, 

Committed blunders which I'll tell to you. 

For Major Spread a ladies' man was he, 

And he would ilance and flirt and kill his time, 

And go to i)arties and get on a sjjree, 

Or to his sweetheart write a verse in rhyme. 

The Major was a handsome man in truth, 
His features fine, and of the Roman cast; 

Moustaches long, and waxed like jolly youth. 

While limbs and cheeks were of i)roportions vast. 

Once was a jxirty on a star-lit night. 

To which the Major with some friends had gone. 
And where a fair one, to his great delight. 

Had asked a favor of our gallant Don. 

For then the tyrant, fashion, had ordained 
That every lady should a framework get 

Of copper wire bent and interchained, 
Just like a basket, and with moss o'erset. 

And this— a hanging basket called by name- 
Was what the lady wished to make just then; 

She had the framework, and to him she came 
To ask for moss, out of some swamp or fen. 

Next day ecjuipped with basket, axe and saw, 
Into the woods he sped his hasty way. 

He wished to go to Cedar Creek, and draw 

From off some moss grown tree the clusters grev. 



PLANTATION LAYS. 101 



Far in the inmost recess of the swamp 

He penetrates, and seeks the slippery bank 

Of Cedar Creek, on which he took a romp, 
And from. its waters clear and deep he drank, 

As also of some waters stronger far 

Which he had loaded in a pocket flask, 

Not quite enough to stir his perpendicular, 
But too much for his safety on such task. 

And being then refreshed and rested well, 
He hies him to his work of love and trust, 

And climbs aloft into a tree, they tell. 

With branches o'er the water's surface thrust. 

And taking now the saw into his hands, 

A moss hung branch which o'er the water frowned 
He picks him out, and quick on it he stands. 

Upright and steady as if on the ground. 

And then our Major, leaning o'er the limb, 
Between himself and trunk began to saw. 

From love and nectar was his sight so dim 
That from his peril he did not withdraw. 

With the utmost haste was the limb sawed through. 
And, giving away with a horrible crash, 

Down it and the Major to the water flew, 
And tumbled in with a deafening splash ! 

And now he yells and cries and roars aloud. 

He screams with fright and wallows in the mud, 

The water gurgles, and, with grandeur proud. 
Enveloping, sinks him under the flood. 



102 PLANTATION LAYS. 

Dui .\Lijur Spread, lu- (|ui( kly rose again; — 

A gas-bag cannot under water slay ; 
But one of his boots, it was a number ten, 

It left his foot and swiftly sailed away. 

The tenants of the water, rudely roused, 

Came swimming from their dens in terror wild, 

To where our struggling hero, badly soused, 
Was rolling yet and bawling like a child. 

And some into his coat-sleeves swam and stayed, 
And down his only boot leg creeped a pack ; 

A little perch into his jHxket strayed, 

A slippery eel slid down his flinching back. 

At last the Major crept out to the bank, 
He sat upon a log and sucked his paw; 

The trees and moss looked down upon him frank, 
A crow which flew above cawed , ' ' Haw ! Haw ! Haw I ' 

At length the Major rose up from his seat 

"And slowly homeward i)lud his weary way," 

While every i)erson on tiie road he'd meet 

Would look at him antl cry, *'Oh, Hay, Hay, Hay!' 

And from that day our hero's been 

A very altered man. 
He says the fiiir sex led him in 

To dangers which he ran. 

So from the ladies ever since 

He's kept himself awav, 
And from his books he does not wince 

So here I end my lay ! 



PLANTATION LAYS. 103 



ODE TO NfiRCISSS, 

ANACREONTIC. 



[Written at College, while sixteen years old. Also read from the Euphradian 
Reading Box.] 



Dreaming in a rustic chair 
Placed beneath a shade-tree fair, 
On a sultry Summer's day, 
Methought I saw Narcissa stray 
From out the house to where I slept, 
When softly up to me she crept, 
And on my willing lips she pressed 
A kiss as sweet as nectar blessed ! 
Forthwith with sudden rapture, rent 
At this sweet gift so coyly sent 
Up from the seat I sprang with haste 
And cried, "Another on me waste !" 
But with this cry the dream fell off. 
And waking up with many a scoff, 
To find it all a trance and naught. 
And that I was by Cupid caught, 
Straight to this God I cried aloud 
And to him tlien and there I vowed. 
By all things dear to me on earth, 
His golden arrow sent in mirth 
Forth from my heart to never pluck. 
But with Narcissa try my luck ! 



»«4 PLANTATION i.AYb. 



R NEGRO VHLENTINE,* 



(*The lines below were the first ever composed by the author. He wrote them 
when ten years uf age lor a family servant, a ncgress, to send to one of the colored 
men on his father's place. This man aspired to be a dandy, shirked work when- 
ever able, and loafed so much in the kitchen that this woman was accused of at- 
tracting him quite as much as the victuals. Indignant at being thus teased, she- 
asked the author to write her a " letter" warning him off. The author, as it' was 
near the 14th February, suggested a valentine as the better plan, and it being urged 
by the family (to tease him) that it ought to be in rhyme, he set to work and to 
their surprise produced the lines bolow, which the woman duly mailed the loafer 
Ihcy worked a cure, fjr when, at his re]u.-st, we read them to him on his getting 
them, he suspected she had sent them, an J, taking it as a casus belli, he shunned 
her and the kitchen some time. 1 



To Anderson : 

You think yourself so fine 
That you try to cut a shine, 
But I think you're mistaken, 
So you'd better save your bacon. 
For you loaf around the kitchen, 
Wont work with the men, 
And I'll give you a switchin', 
If you come here again I 

VaLENI INK 



PLANTATION LAYS. 105 



R FRAGMENT. 

JUVENILE. 



Oh ! Byron was with anger not more rife 

When first he felt the coarse reviewer's knife, 

And he that sang the Dunciad's lay not more 

Wrought up to pay the Grub street pack its score, 

Than I'll be ready, when shall come the time, 

To take my vengeance for your similar crime ! 

We have a score to settle deep as hell, 

x'\nd I will force the issue sternly, well ! 

Your crowd, yes every individual name, 

Though, Cottle-like, too greasy, coarse for fame, 

Unflinchingly, relentless, up I'll hold 

To execrations just and manifold. 

You yet shall hear of how with impious hand, 

Like the base Indian^^ of the roaming band, 

You did not halt to throw a pearl away 

Than all your tribe more rich, as worthless clay. 

So think not then that you have put me down, 

When you suppress my efforts, on me frown ! 

The world moved on, Galileo's law was true 

Despite the Inquisition's cry and hue. 

They burnt the books of Luther, hurled the bull 

Of excommunication 'gainst him full ; 

But who's most famous, Luther or the crowd 

Of churchmen, who the heretic would have cowed? 

— You've scotched the snake, not killed it, like Macbeth, 

'Tis the old tale of honest Wickliffe's death: 

"To Severn flows the Avon, both to sea, 

His dust shall spread where'er the waters be." 



10« 



PLANTATION LAY^ 



You know not whom y(ju slighted. When tlic band 
Of pirates once found Bacchus on the strand, 
They bore him off, restjlved to sell the lad 
To slavery's life, and to tiieir riches add. 
But presently the fated vessel stopped. 
The youth — a <(od disclosed — above them tojjjjed ; 
The tiger, lynx and panther round him stood. 
Green vines twined up all round the vessel's wood. 
Then terror-stricken at the monstrous thing 
Which they had done, all haste o'erboard to spring, 
.\nd changed to dolphins pondered long and well, 
That sometimes worth ' neath moiiest looks may dwelt. 







nsroTiES. 

— m — 

I. '-District" was the appellation given to Counties by law in South 

Carolina, prior to 1868. 

\(i. The first Monday in every month is known as ''Sales Day"" in 
South Carolina, being set aside by law as the time on which all 
judicial sales must be made at the Court House door of eacli 
County by the Sheriff and other officers. On Sales Days thou- 
sands of people, white and black, throng in on foot or horseback, 
or in buggies, to the County towns, to sell produce, cotton, eggs, 
chickens, &c., swap horses or buggies, buy goods, talk to the 
lawyers and merchants, to drink and to fight. 

2; See Macaulay's Milton : "Ariosto tells a pretty story,'" &c. 

;}. See also Macaulay's Milton. 

4. See Wordsworth ; Eob Roy's Grave. 

■hi. Since the preparation of this volume for the printer, the Grand 
Jury of Charleston County have made in reference to their jail a 
presentment in which my strictures on jails are strikingly con- 
firmed. See News and Courier of February 29, 1884. 

5. "And maidens with such eyes as would grow dim over a bleeding 

hound." — TiMKOD, Charleston. 

6. This refers to the origin of Charleston's name^ of course. 

7. Horace; "Dulceet decorum," &c. 

8. Boswell's Johnson, amw 1776. 

9. See George Eliot, Mrs. Wilson {nee Evans), and Byron. 

10. A favorite doctrine of Herbert Spencer's. 

10a. See Trevelyan's Life and Letters, as to Macaulay's precocity. 

II. "There's nothing ill can dwell in such a temple.'' — Tempest, i, 2. 

12. Labor saving machines, says Bagehot, " have enabled more people 
to exist, but these people work jijst as hard," ^fec. — Physics am) 
Politics, v. 

13. " The atrocious crime of being a young man.'' — Lord Chatha^f. 
Speech, March 6, 1741. 

14. "Think how Bacon shined. The wisest, brightest, meanest of 
mankind."— Pope, 4 Epistle, 281. 

"For my name and memory, I leave it to * * * * foreign nations. 
and to the next ages.'' — Bacon's Will. 

15. Longfellow's Psalm of Life. 

16. The great Krupp gun in Machinery Hall is alluded to. 

17. " Fixed like a plant on his peculiar spot, 

To draw nutrition, propagate and rot.'' — Pope, 2 Epistle, (33. 

18. " Of one whose hand 

Like the base Indian threw a pearl away 
Richer than all his tribe."— Othello, v. 2. 



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